


Have Scythe, Will Travel

by Notsae



Category: Naruto
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood and Gore, Evil MC, F/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Psychological Torture, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sadism, Self-Harm, Self-Insert, Self-Mutilation, Torture, Underage Rape/Non-con, Vaginal Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-15 18:17:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 51,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13618962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notsae/pseuds/Notsae
Summary: After Hidan's live burial, Jashin decides she doesn't like him enough to save him and caches in a favour with the apathetic god of time; allowing her to go back to the moment she chose him and replace him. I'm more than happy to take his place; after all, who wants to be a hero, eh? Villainy is far more fun.





	1. Chosen

**Chosen**

**  
**  


Waking up already walking is a rather jarring experience; so jarring, in fact, that I nearly fell flat on my face. Luckily I had a staff to catch myself on and didn't wind up with the first moments of my new life being an impromptu make out session with a dirt road.

**  
**  


I wasn't really surprised to see the “staff" I had used to prop myself up was actually a tri-bladed scythe. See, I knew exactly where I was and how I got here. Jashin wasn't too happy with Hidan going out like a dumbass bitch, nor did she particularly like the relationship they had.

**  
**  


Hidan never quite grasped what being Jashin’s champion meant. It wasn't like a normal worshipper; they offer prayers and sacrifices and in exchange are given a limited form of immortality and sometimes some extras based on the amount of sacrifices offered up. Jashin’s champion on the other hand was a much more  _ intimate _ relationship; closer and more personal, not  _ just  _ sexual. 

**  
**  


See, every god chooses a champion, and when they do they can't help but fall in love with them, no matter how much such a tender emotion clashes with their nature. As the god of murder, violence, war, pain, chaos, death, torture, rape, etcetera Jashin naturally chose the strongest and most prolific of her followers; Hidan just managed to steal that title by massacring Yugakure. 

**  
**  


Unfortunately for him Jashin realized after his live burial that she didn't like him enough to save him; so she cashed in a favour with the ever uncaring god of time to go back to the moment she chose him and make a different choice. She rather quickly realised that she'd never get the relationship she wanted from the sycophantic morons that worshipped her and decided to branch out, snatching me from a hospital wing and offering a deal. See, I was just the right kind of monster she was looking for; amoral and generally uncaring whilst still capable of forming bonds. I had never become a killer simply because I thought it wasn't worth the effort and whilst I could abandon friendships as easily as choosing what to have for breakfast, I still did care while they lasted. My disdain for authority told her I wouldn't turn into a sycophant, my capacity to care told her the relationship she wanted was possible, and my amoral nature told her I wouldn't have a problem getting her sacrifices.

**  
**  


The fact that a god of slaughter considered me good boyfriend material was mildly concerning; though I couldn’t really say I was that upset.

**  
**  


Waking up in Hidan’s body was a bit of a surprise; the fact that he was mid step when I replaced him made me think I may be getting pranked. 

**  
**  


**_“I swapped your souls at the exact moment I chose him as my champion.”_ ** And that would presumably be Jashin herself.  **_“Indeed, my champion.”_ ** And she can read my mind…  _ lovely _ . No really, having absolutely no privacy is really good for the old mental health.

**  
**  


I smirk, hefting my shiny new scythe on my shoulder, “Meh, sanity is for the weak.” I turned around, intent on robbing the village “I” just massacred; Hidan may have been content with his single jutsu and no money but  _ I’m  _ certainly not. Even a minor village like Yugakure has to have  _ some _ techniques; hopefully some Kinjutsu I can use my immortality to abuse the fuck out of!

**  
**  


Searching the blood streaked (wow, Hidan does  _ not _ kill clean) streets of what was ostensibly my home was mildly disturbing; I felt nothing but mild amusement at all the mutilated bodies around me, but I still vaguely expected one to attack me. The thought that technically  _ I _ killed these people somewhat bothered me; though not as much as it probably should have. I went from house to house, shoving valuables and currency into a convenient sack I found in the first house I searched. Having to lower myself to lugging around a burlap sack full of goodies like a common thug made me place learning sealing on my priorities list; besides, who knows what kind of crazy tricks I could pimp out my scythe with if I figured out sealing!

**  
**  


A rising pillar of smoke led me to a section of Yugakure I decided to loot quickly (can’t let the fire steal all the swag now can I?). Upon seeing what exactly was on fire I nearly sank to my knees in a puddle of ash and blood.

**  
**  


Turns out, Yugakure  _ did _ have a library… until Hidan burned it down. I rushed into the glorious institution of knowledge collection, trusting in my Jashin granted immortality to get me out alive; I simply couldn’t let all that knowledge just burn away! Only a couple of scrolls managed to survive, most of them were basic chakra control exercises and a rare few mostly intact jutsu, but nothing advanced or unique. 

**  
**  


Dejected, I headed to the Kage tower; if I’m lucky my bodies former (and totally unworthy) owner won’t have bothered burning the forbidden scroll or the Kage’s personal library.  I know basic techniques are still things I need to learn, but damn was it demoralising to see all that literature just dissolve into ashes before my eyes.

**  
**  


Normally robbing a Kage tower would not be an easy task by any stretch of the imagination for anyone below S-rank; thankfully this one came pre-slaughtered! The conveniently smashed open (and blood splattered) door did nothing to bar my passage into the gore streaked interior of the former head of this nation’s governance. Seeing a half liquified body stuck to a wall by its own drying blood and entangled intestines as I walked up the stairs was a bit of a novel experience; luckily putrefaction hasn’t set in enough for the wretched smell to violate my nose (much like the pens jammed into the apparent secretary’s nose and rammed into the brain with skull cracking force).

**  
**  


I searched around the Yukage’s office, noting the distinct lack of Yukage in the room. I found a bunch of paperwork that told me very clearly that this town was a bit of a shithole even before Hidan (I?) decided to redecorate a bit; no wonder they were switching to a tourism based economy if the whole ninja business was going down in a flaming zeppelin like these reports suggested. 

**  
**  


Eventually I got bored of looking for secret triggers to open secret passageways and just began slashing at the wall with my giant fuck off scythe, which proved much more effective… and taught me just how hard it would be to effectively wield a scythe as a primary weapon (first chance I get I’m sharpening the top of each blade). The third wall I eviscerated proved to have been false and revealed a beautiful, virgin library all for me!

**  
**  


I didn’t bother reading more than a few titles before shoving every last scroll into a second sack I had kept just for stealing scrolls and books. Moving at ninja speeds (thank Jashin I didn’t have some period of adjustment for the shiny new body) it only took me a few minutes to collect every scroll in the small library, and less time to find the false wall near the back. Stepping through the door, I smirked at the massive scroll sitting on a pedestal in the middle of the room; this is the  _ real _ reason I came back here.

**  
**  


I tentatively approach, searching for traps the whole way and being very surprised to find none (though, judging by Naruto’s ease with stealing Konoha’s equivalent, perhaps I shouldn’t be). I slowly unfurled the scroll, and smiled.

**  
**  


Being a small village, I wasn’t surprised that Yugakure didn’t have much in the way of forbidden techniques; but Kakuzu stealing the Jiongu from Taki told me that Yu might have something of value. I was glad I bothered checking; this scroll contained little, mostly just suicide techniques (that I made a mental note to go over considering my immortality made such techniques viable); but what the Yukage considered worth banning that wasn’t suicidal made me grin. This confirmed a theory I had held for a long time; non-physical bloodlines are bullshit.

**  
**  


Within the large scroll was the instructions for learning the Boil Release without possessing the bloodline. Based on the details, the techniques were developed when a Jonin decided that he should honour his village by designing techniques that used hot water. He succeeded; but then he decided to push it further, and accidentally utilized the Boil Release. The Yukage of his time, upon seeing this, immediately forbade him from using it and labeled it a forbidden technique; apparently he feared the Terumi clan would come and cull their village if they discovered that their techniques were being stolen. As both an immortal and a rogue; I couldn’t give less of a fuck what a near extinct clan thought about me stealing their techniques. In fact, I intended to use this primer on mixing elements to learn  _ all  _ the sub-elements; maybe even make some new ones.

**  
**  


People underestimated Hidan as the weakest of the Akatsuki; they weren’t entirely wrong. Amongst the Akatsuki Hidan was by far the weakest; but he was S-rank for a reason and it wasn’t just his immortality. His weapon was deadly and unique, designed to be very difficult to block without receiving damage; and he wielded the cumbersome weapon masterfully. Many claimed it was his lack of intelligence that made him weak; I disagree, his easy understanding of unfamiliar jutsu showed a high intelligence. No, what always held Hidan back was arrogance and a lack of techniques. If he hadn’t been blinded by his arrogance he may have actually trained, utilizing his incredible durability to push himself further than most. If he hadn’t relied so heavily on the single technique he used he may have been a serious threat to a great many people.

**  
**  


A maniacal grin spread across my face as equally twisted laughter crawled between my teeth; with this I could propel myself into the true upper echelons. With my immortality I could push my body to limits most couldn’t ever reach in training, without Hidan’s arrogance I could see just how useful versatility and trickery was. Warfare is deception, after all.

**  
**  


I gently set the large scroll into my second sack amongst its brethren before turning to leave; whistling a merry tone the whole way. I wasn’t here to save people, couldn’t care less for peace and global happiness. I’m a very selfish man; I’m here for my own entertainment and to save myself. Leave all that hero shit for the dull masses; villainy is far more fun. The terms Jashin gave me in exchange for coming here were simple; be her champion. She had gone on to explain what that meant; all of my kills count as sacrifices to her (and I was strongly encouraged to provide as many as possible) and I need to have a close relationship with her. I was more than happy to accept; immortality and all I need is to be friends with a murder god? Hell yeah.

**  
**  


Something caught my gaze as I walked out and I turned toward the large window in the Kage’s office. For a moment I stared at the moonlit village,  looking for any sign of what caught my attention. I almost turned away before I saw it; movement. Someone or something was moving through the shadowed streets.

**  
**  


I frowned, it wasn't impossible some animal had come from the surrounding forest, or perhaps a pet got free (I have no idea if Hidan killed them along with the humans) but somehow I doubted it. The possibility that that flicker of movement in the shadows was a shinobi (either returning from a mission or sent by another nation) was too high to ignore.

**  
**  


**_“It is likely a shinobi.”_ ** How exactly did she know  _ that _ , now?  **_“I can sense violence and purveyors of it; shinobi drip with blood, no matter how hard they try to scrub it off.”_ ** Huh, I have a built in sensory ability not based on chakra like Naruto… good to know. Wonder what else being Jashin’s champion came with?

**  
**  


I shook my head; now isn't the time to be experimenting with my abilities. My frown twisted into a scowl; I have no idea what rank Hidan was, but  _ I  _ have no training or combat experience whatsoever. I  _ could _ try to sneak out but I highly doubt my stealth skills were good enough to evade anyone a village considered competent enough to send on a solo mission.

**  
**  


My lips turned up in a vicious grin, “Well, a crucible of fire it is.” At least I had the handicap of immortality to fall back on if things (inevitably) went to shit. I turned away from the window, taking my time to walk outside and doing nothing to hide my presence; I wanted them to find me.

**  
**  


I wasn't disappointed; I had barely took a step out of the Kage tower when a figure in dark clothes and a vaguely owl shaped mask appeared before me. “Hidan-san!” They called, “Did you see what happened?” 

**  
**  


I shrugged, unintentionally drawing attention to the bags I held slung over my shoulder if the way their yellow eyes darted to it was anything to go by; evidently their mask was meant to be ironic if it took them this long to notice such an obvious detail. I smirked as their eyes narrowed, “Nah, I just got here a little before you.” Technical truth; the best kind of truth.

**  
**  


Disdain was simply dripping off them, “Hmph, always knew you were the opportunistic sort but I never thought you’d stoop so low as to rob your neighbors during a crisis.” Apparently he still hadn’t noticed the blood splattered on my clothes; either that or he thought I got it while I was looting. Not the sharpest hammer on the tree is he?

**  
**  


My smirk grew, “Neighbors?” I asked faux-innocently, “What neighbors?”

**  
**  


Narrowed eyes widened in shock as he took a stumbled half-step back, “Wh-what do you mean!” There was anger in his voice, barely masking the confusion and fear.

**  
**  


My smirk turned to a sadistic grin, “Did you think there were survivors? Yugakure’s dead, boy; along with everyone in it.” Was it my imagination or were those tears in his eyes?

**  
**  


His posture screamed despair for a moment before shifting to rage, “You lying piece of shit! When Yukage-sama gets here he’ll-”

**  
**  


I cut him off, “Oh, I’m  _ so _ scared of what a corpse is gonna do to me for my insubordination. I’m fairly certain the Yukage is resting in pieces a little ways that way.” I jerked my head over his left shoulder.

**  
**  


He turned to look, exposing his back to me for a brief moment… and I ruthlessly capitalized. Perhaps he heard the disturbance my scythe caused or perhaps he merely expected my betrayal; regardless, he ducked under my scythe as it passed through the air once occupied by his neck.

**  
**  


He whirled to face me as my massive blade passed over his head, pulling a kunai from a pouch on his thigh as he turned. He snarled, flinging the short blade at me. “Traitor!” he screamed, voice cracking from his shear rage.

**  
**  


I smirked, leaning my head to the side; letting the kunai pass me by in a move I never would have been able to pull off in life. I watched with half-lidded eyes as the probable Anbu leapt away to try to get distance. Pointless.

**  
**  


I whipped my scythe forward, letting go part way through the swing and using the attached wire to use the blade like a flail. The crimson crescents sliced through the air like a bird of prey, intent on skewering my prey. The more experienced ninja’s reaction took me by surprise, though truly it shouldn't have.

**  
**  


He stepped forward, stretching out his arm to catch my scythe well below the deadly blades. My shock didn't last long and I yanked back on the wire, wrenching the shaft from his grasp and slicing him near in half… or at least it should have.

**  
**  


Rather than try to hold his ground and get minced, he let my (subconsciously chakra enhanced) pull drag him to me. My eyes widened as he was carried along with my blade; apparently I was stronger than I thought (and my bodies muscle memories still existed).

**  
**  


I could see the empty satisfaction in his glowing eyes as he approached, a kunai in hand. My eyes widened as I tossed my bags aside, going for a kunai of my own only to find Hidan didn't have any (maybe people weren't to far off with the stupidity theory). My wide and panicked eyes locked with his grimly smug gaze as he grew closer.

**  
**  


His blade slipped into my throat just as my hand wrapped around the haft of my scythe. I stumbled back, a hand flying to my throat as shock spread across my face. Slowly I turned around, collapsing onto my scythe to keep my body from falling.

**  
**  


The pain was incredible, though it had nothing on the disturbing sensation of my lungs filling with blood. Even so, I couldn't keep the blood stained grin from spreading across my face as I purposely directed my thoughts to Jashin,  _ “Can you tell how far away he is?”  _ I mentally asked. As an Anbu his footsteps were far too quiet for my (mostly) untrained ears to detect.

**  
**  


**_“I can.”_ ** I could feel her pleasure at my asking for help; apparently Hidan never did. Odd considering how much he revered Jashin.

**  
**  


_ “Then can you tell me when he’s in range?”  _ I projected an image of what I had planned to her.

**  
**  


A moment passed in silence… then another…

**  
**  


**_“Now.”_ **  Her voice was as calm and deranged as always.

**  
**  


I whirled, holding my scythe in a reverse grip. His skill showed even then; for rather than the middle blade ramming through his side, the top blade carved a deep gash across his chest.

**  
**  


I grinned, flinging the kunai once impaled in my throat at the man as he stumbled back. Even taken by surprise and wounded he managed to redirect the blade with the back of his hand. 

**  
**  


My smirk returned as I scooped up a handful of the blood pouring from my throat, tossing it on the ground before repeating the process a few more times. I stepped on top of the puddles of blood, sliding my legs around to draw the symbol of Jashin around me. It was rather crude compared to Hidan's work, but Jashin assured me it was serviceable.

**  
**  


The injured Anbu stared at me in shock, “How the hell are you alive!?” he shouted.

**  
**  


In lieu of answering I raised my scythe to my lips, licking some of the blood from the longest blade with a gurgling laugh. As I swallowed the blood I couldn’t feel anything change but I could see as my skin blackened and white, bone like marks appeared.

**  
**  


“What the hell did you just do!” Not very cool under pressure this guy; surprised he managed to make it into the black-ops division with that attitude. 

**  
**  


I just laughed, the gurgling leaving as my regeneration kicked in to heal up my throat. Slowly, I raised my scythe to my neck; a sadistic grin stretched across my face as I gently pressed the blade into my flesh. “You cut my throat…” my voice seemed to shock him into stillness, “Perhaps I should repay the favour?” So saying I pulled my blade sharply to the side, cutting so deep into my flesh I could feel it scrape my spine.

**  
**  


The agony was exquisite, like fire tearing away at my throat. Even with what should be unbearable agony imposed on my inexperienced mind, I couldn't keep my eyes off my opponent as my wound stretched across his neck. My pain seemed to fade as Jashin settled more heavily over my mind; perhaps she was protecting me from it, perhaps she was encouraging the development of masochistic tendencies to match my sadistic ones.

**  
**  


**_“Both. Your life will be much easier if pain doesn't bother you and the rituals will be more effective if it gives you pleasure…”_ ** She trailed off for a moment before haltingly continuing,  **_“I… do not enjoy seeing you suffer.”_ ** She seemed honestly surprised by this revelation.

**  
**  


My smile gentled at her words before becoming all the more cruel as blood spurted from the Anbu’s throat, splattering all over his shirt and the ground before him as he sank to his knees. His hands shook as he raised them to his throat, animal instincts desperate to stop the flow his mind knew couldn't be halted. His breath came in desperate gurgles, blood filling lungs that hungered for unreachable air. This wasn't like the movies, it took several minutes for him to finally succumb to his wound, and his eyes were locked on mine for every second of that time.

**  
**  


I laughed as the light slowly left his eyes, the sound growing all the more maniacal as he teetered for a moment before collapsing fully to the blood splattered earth. My laughter only grew louder and more psychotic as the seconds ticked by; my whole body leaning back and shaking as my crackles split the night. Tears streamed from my eyes as I repeatedly slammed my scythe into the ground beside me; the shock and thrill of such a near death (my mind still hadn't quite adapted to immortality) experience followed so quickly by my first kill getting to me more than I thought it would.

**  
**  


Jashin had no words of comfort; I suspect she didn't know what was wrong, couldn't understand how murder could mess with even the coldest of minds.  **_“I have seen the effects of every conflict throughout all of history. Suffering is my domain and I know all it's causes. I'm just more experienced at exploiting weaknesses, not patching them up.”_ ** A long moment passed with only my hysterical (and increasingly breathless) laughter to fill the void before she spoke again.  **_“I… want to help you… but I do not know how.”_ ** She finally admitted.

**  
**  


My laughter slowed to a stop and I wound up hunched over clutching my knees to keep from falling; desperately sucking in air to appease burning lungs. “Heh... heh… I suppose I’ll simply have to get used to this. At least it’s kinda fun.” I muttered, slowly straightening out my stance. I shook my head rapidly, trying to shake off the horror of my actions. “For now, Jashin; your intention is good enough. Knowing someone, even a god of evil, still gives a fuck is comforting in a way.” I felt her influence settle over my mind, dulling my emotions to a degree. It felt like she was eating them, draining the pain away into herself. A moment passed and I felt fine; my panic sucked away and replaced with my underlying humour. 

**  
**  


“Well that certainly helped; what exactly did you just do?” I questioned as I walked over to the fallen nin (my first victim), flipping him over with my foot (note to self; get boots). To my surprise he was still (barely) alive, his now dull, sightless yellow eyes moving rapidly from side to side as if searching for something. I frowned and stomped on his head, my bodies great strength easily reducing it to so much paste.

**  
**  


**_“I found a way to help. I am the god of pain; I simply took yours away.”_ ** Makes sense, I suppose; it is one of her domains so why shouldn’t she be able to control it? Shrugging and accepting her revelation, I began rifling through the dead ninja’s pockets (immediately strapping his Kunai pouch to my own leg) in search of anything useful or valuable. 

**  
**  


My search uncovered several weapons (all of which I stole), a photo of what appeared to be a small family (which I tossed on top of his smashed skull with a snicker), and a Bingo Book. I smirked, flipping through the book for a time (occasionally pausing on familiar names or interesting people) before finding a circled image. I reached down and pulled off his crushed mask, thankful that my impulsive execution hadn’t mangled his face as much as it could have. His face, while smashed and perforated by the fragments of his shattered skull, was still recognizably the same as the circled image.

**  
**  


My lips curled up, it seems my little Anbu was a touch prideful; he kept track of his own bounty, seeming to be affronted by his relatively low stats and bounty. I laughed, “Lucky me, I stumbled into my first bounty.” Hmm, bounty hunting… a decent way of attracting Kakuzu’s attention whether he’s in the Akatsuki yet or not.

**  
**  


Not to mention all the money I could make.

**  
**  


I picked the body up and tossed him into the air, catching him on my scythe and leaning it against my shoulder before collecting my bags and strolling out of the village as the fire from the library spread across the town; whistling a merry tune as I went. Time to try and find a bounty station… and a good place to train.

**  
**  


I stopped at the village gates, reaching up to grab my hitai-ate from around my neck. Slowly I pulled the symbol of my affiliation from my neck, turning it around to stare contemplatively at the scarred surface and crossed out symbol. My eyes turn to the dead Anbu impaled through the chest on all three of my blades, spotting his own untarnished hitai-ate strapped to his upper arm.

**  
**  


I never understood why missing-nin kept these or why black-ops agents would wear one at all; wasn't the whole point of both that your not affiliated with your village (at least officially in the case of black-ops) anymore? It especially confused me that people like Hidan and Kakuzu would keep theirs when both hated their villages and felt betrayed by them.

**  
**  


I glanced back at the ruins of Yugakure as they were slowly incinerated before shoving my head band in my loot sack, pulling the Anbu’s from his arm and shoving it in as well. It might be fun to start a collection and I'm sure the headband of a now defunct village will be a rare piece to make other collectors jealous.

**  
**  


I smirked and walked off into the dark.

**  
**  


_______________________________________________________

**  
**  


Hidan blinked awake, staring at the sterile white walls in confusion. Where was he? A voice drew his gaze to a tall man in a lab coat checking over a clipboard. He spoke in a unknown language, seeming to think Hidan understood him. Is this a hospital? Hidan had never been in one, being immortal and all (he usually just barred the doors and set them on fire when he was purging a village).

**  
**  


A dark grin spread across the reborn mass murderer’s face as he slowly stood up; ignoring the supposed doctor’s shocked gasp. He started babbling, gesturing at the bed as Hidan pulled the tubes and wires from himself. The serial killer’s grin widened as he pricked his finger on the I.V. needle.

**  
**  


The doctor’s increasingly frantic gesturing and calls are silenced as Hidan’s hand wraps around his throat. “Rejoice, sinner! For I shall bring an end to your fear with the love of Jashin-sama!”

**  
**  


So saying he plunged the needle into the doctor’s eye with a joyously psychotic laugh.


	2. Hidan: Bounty Hunter Extrordinaire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the only warning I'm going to give; this story is fucked up. I wasn't kidding when I said the MC was evil. There are some very messed up acts performed in this story, all portrayed from the point of view of an utterly amoral man. This story has an actual villain protagonist and this is the point where that becomes very, very clear.

**Hidan: Bounty Hunter Extraordinaire**

  
  


I only realised I had no fucking idea where I was after nearly a solid day of aimless wandering. I used Jashin’s ability to detect killers to avoid wandering Shinobi; four days later it helped me find a bounty station. Jashin detected that a large amount of killers frequented a seemingly innocuous building in a small, non-ninja village and I felt it would be worth checking out.

  
  


I hadn’t spent all that time simply stumbling about; by tying my bags to my scythe I not only increased the weight (already enhanced by the now rotting corpse attached) to potentially increase my swing speed, I also freed up a hand to read scrolls with. 

  
  


Admittedly, being on the run wasn't the best place to sit down and train; I wanted to get the fuck outta dodge before war broke out over the now available territory. The only thing I really managed was dodging ninjas from a great distance, repeatedly swinging my scythe with one or both hands, reading basic scrolls (not wanting to risk the rarer stuff out in the open), and practicing basic chakra control exercises. I’m just glad it never rained and ruined all my swag!

  
  


Actually walking into the benign looking little restaurant was daunting until I realised I probably didn’t actually have a bounty; who’s gonna post it from a nation with no survivors or witnesses? With a good deal of false bravado I entered the little restaurant, attempting to ignore the looks people gave me. Oddly, entering a restaurant with a partially decomposed body impaled on a scythe only got me a few raised eyebrows and a couple wrinkled noses.

  
  


I glanced around; the place was rather quant and old fashioned, a fire-lit atmosphere enhanced by dark wooden walls and furniture. The food looked and smelled decent enough, but Jashin assured me that food, water, and even air were unnecessary for me (which explained why Hidan could still talk without lungs) and I wasn’t one to waste money I don’t have on luxuries I don’t need.

  
  


A helpful patron with an unnaturally blank face glanced at the corpse I’ve been lugging around and pointed to the bathroom; likely seeing my inexperience with bounty hunting and deciding to help a newcomer. Nice guy; I’ll kill him quick if it comes down to it.

  
  


I walked into the unsurprisingly clean bathroom, looking around for any sign of where the station might be. I was about to start knocking on walls when Jashin spoke up,  **_“Death radiates from behind the second stall; many killers, both dead and alive, have passed through that stall. The other stalls are nearly untouched.”_ ** Well, that solves that problem then.

  
  


I open the stall, noticing the lack of a toilet right away but not seeing any means of ingress. As far as I could tell the wall was perfectly smooth and seamless; not even a hint of a door. Frowning, I decided to try knocking on the wall; if that didn’t work I could always try knocking it down, though somehow I don’t think that’s a good idea considering the more experienced bounty hunters I’ll likely piss off with such a move.

  
  


Fortunately, before I could move past merely contemplating whether it was worth it to piss off a shit load of ninjas, a rectangular seam appeared in the wall slightly below eye level. The sectioned off part of the wall slid back before sliding to the right, revealing a pair of suspicious brown eyes staring out. “I don’t recognise you.”

  
  


I smirked, “I’m new,” I moved my scythe (and more importantly, the dead body attached) into view, “But I’m pretty sure he isn’t.”

  
  


He glanced at the dead Anbu before looking back at me, “Hmph,  a newbie taking out an Anbu huh? Guess Kakuzu was wrong about each generation only getting weaker as time goes on.“ Huh, sounds about right; grumpy bastard would say something like that. “Alright kid, give me a sec’ to open the door and I’ll get’cher money once I verify the validity and identity of the body.”

  
  


I raise an eyebrow, “Do people often try to screw you over?” I’m not truly surprised, but fostering a good relationship with those who pay me is probably a good idea.

  
  


He laughs, “You have no idea how many people have shown up with one of Orochimaru’s shed skins and tried to claim the bounty on his head.”

  
  


I snickered as the wall followed the eye slot’s example, revealing what appeared to be a small morgue. “I can imagine that would get old fast.” I joked as I stepped into the room. The short, balding man that seemed to run this place gestured at one of the medical slabs.

  
  


With a flick of my wrist the corpse flew off my scythe to land on the table with a dull thud. The station master gave me a queer look before shaking his head. I thought I heard a mutter of “Damn over eager beginners; always trying to show off…” but I'm sure it was just the wind. Indoors. Yeah.

  
  


The man pulled on some surgical gloves and set about examining the body, humming tunelessly as he worked. A few moments of seemingly purposeless examinations of random body parts passed before he actually started looking closely at the face. “Word to the wise kid; try not to damage the face too much. Makes these examinations much harder and some places will detract from yer pay if ya make ‘em use other verification methods.” He sent me an aside glance before returning to his work, “Yer knew to this business so I'll let cha off with a warning this time.”

  
  


I repressed the urge to sigh; I just knew crushing his head would come back to bite me. I’m just lucky the poor sucker was sympathetic or I would be out some cash. I started surreptitiously glancing about under the (not entirely inaccurate) guise of just examining the station as a newb bounty hunter; what I was  _ really _ looking for was where he kept the cash. Why bother doing the actual work when I can just kill this weak, middle-aged man and steal it instead?

  
  


_ ‘Because his weakness is likely a facade and I would almost certainly get banned from the industry immediately once word gets out (which it would.)’ _ , I thought as the man who looked to have gone to seed was suddenly in my face when I took a bit too much interest in his desk. 

  
  


“Exploring another man’s space is not a good thing to be caught doing, boy. Try not to be so obvious with your planning.” HIs expression gave nothing of his thoughts away, utterly blank like it was formed from coloured stone.

  
  


I hid my nervousness with an obfuscating smirk, “Planning?” I questioned lightly, “You think I’m dumb enough to shit where I eat?” I snorted, “If I robbed you not only would all those bounty hunters out there attack me, but when I killed them I wouldn’t be able to collect there bounties because I’d be blacklisted from the business.”

  
  


His expression melted slightly, becoming less unnatural before he raised his eyebrow, “ _When_ you kill them?” He grunted amusedly, “You’re sure confident for a rookie… confidence kills, kid.” He moved back to his examination, “A word of advice kid; never get too confident or someone you dismissed as not a threat will be the one turning in _your_ head here.” 

  
  


My smirk grew slightly wider,  _ ‘It’s hardly overconfidence if they really  _ can’t _ kill me.’  _ I thought. Though that doesn’t make the advice bad; always take every fight seriously. 

  
  


My attention was drawn back to the station attendant as he cleared his throat and moved over to the desk I had been investigation earlier. “Alright kid,” That was getting more than a touch annoying, this body is an adult damn it! And even if it wasn’t, the one I left behind sure was. “This looks legit.” He reached down and opened up a drawer I’m certain wasn’t there when I was inspecting it and pulled out a briefcase and a scroll. He started to rapidly pull large stacks of money from the scroll and place them in the briefcase; so rapidly in fact that I’m certain he was trying to screw me over by not giving me the full bounty. “There ya go; two hundred and fifty three thousand five hundred and seventy nine ryo.” Huh, how pedantically and oddly specific.

  
  


The moment he handed it to me I started counting each ryo but gave up after realising it was far too boring to hold my attention for more than a couple seconds and I really didn’t care. I ignored the plebian chuckling over my checking and simply looked for for trackers and bombs, which did in fact result in me counting the money… or rather  _ Jashin _ counting the money. Apparently she could see through my eyes and see the general area around me; kinda like a text based (she has to describe what she sees, rather than me being able to just see what she sees) Byakugan without the blindspot if ya think about it. Considering she has  _ way _ better perception than me (being a god has its perks; quite a few of them actually) it was easy for her to count the bills as I flipped through them. On the upside; he didn’t cheat me. On the downside; he  _ did _ slip a tracking device in. 

  
  


The fact that a world without cars has fucking mini-tracking devices and TVs and shit still baffles me.

  
  


I subtly (as I could anyway) palmed the tracker from my money. I nodded to the man as I walked out of the (slightly perversely) hidden bounty office, tossing the tracker into some sucker’s soup as I walked out the door.

  
  


Well, that was a worthwhile trip; I’m leaving some two hundred thousand ryo richer and one rotting body lighter, a good trade! Come to think of it; any trade of rotting anything for cash is probably a good trade… 

  
  


Whistling merrily as I walked out of the little village (fuck inns, I don’t sleep so the damn parasites can't suck me dry!) and went searching for a nice, quiet place to train. After only five  or six hours of solid, non-stop running (infinite stamina for the win!) I came across a little clearing in the middle of nowhere that seemed perfect for my purposes.

  
  


I nodded to myself, approaching a tree with a determined look on my face; might as well start with the most basic of techniques, the surface clinge. Hopefully my body’s muscle memories would kick in and speed up these early stages but it’s best to just give it a shot.

  
  


I placed a hand against a tree, deciding to cheat a little by using the easiest place to channel chakra rather than the hardest to start with. I focused for a moment, feeling my chakra move through my body like a horrific, semi-gaseous parasite infused throughout my body before pushing it towards my hand and into the tree before me. A second later I had wooden shrapnel embedded in my mangled hand and face.

  
  


I stared at the ruins of my hand with my single eye for a moment, too stunned to even think. Slowly, my gaze shifted to the tree; only to widen in even greater shock. Apparently I channeled way,  _ way _ too much chakra into the technique because the tree looked like fucking bomb went off on the trunk, reducing a significant portion to so much mulch; in fact, a portion of the tree larger than my own body was simply gone

  
  


Huh, why did no one ever think to weaponize this? If you deliberately fail the surface cling right as you hit something it would be like a cut rate Explosion release or super… strength. A grin spread across my face as I started pulling the shrapnel from my body, starting with my left eye. The sucking sound my eye socket made as the six inch wood chip was pulled out was more than a touch disturbing, but with Jashin fucking with my nervous system to turn what pain wasn’t suppressed to pleasure it only freaked my the fuck out rather than sending me to the ground in screaming agony.

  
  


I blinked my damaged eye several times, smiling as my vision was slowly restored. Looks like Tsunade’s super strength wasn’t all that special really; just a deliberate and refined failure of the surface cling. Admittedly, the way it’s described implies it takes a lot more control than I possess to get it to Tsunade’s level, but it’s still a rather simple technique at its heart.

  
  


Of course, before I can even think of weaponizing failure I need to learn how to  _ succeed. _ Attempting to stick my foot to a tree (like a goddamned pleb) resulted in the same thing; me with hamburger for a leg and a tree blown to smithereens. Turns out, Hidan has a fuck-load of chakra; he just never got famous for it ‘cause he never used it for anything. Well, I’m not so foolish as to let a resource like this go to waste!

  
  


Of course, having an ungodly (or extremely holy, as Jashin insisted) amount of chakra only brought control into even greater importance. I soon came to the realisation of just  _ why _ Hidan never used any techniques; they would all fucking explode from being massively overcharged! I had more chakra than goddamn Naruto (sans-bijuu) as an adult! I kept blowing up trees no matter how little chakra I tried to put into trying to stick to them. (Regrowing limbs gets real old real fast, I soon found.)

  
  


I grit my teeth in frustration, “There is no fucking way I’m letting _too_ _much chakra_ keep me from being awesome, damn it!” I kicked a nearby tree in rage, splintering the wood from my bodies unaugmented strength. Canon Hidan was capable of at least the fucking surface cling, why can’t I! Hell, earlier I managed to use chakra to manipulate the cord of my scythe on pure instinct! How could this be so much harder?

  
  


Jashin was no help here; not being even remotely human she had no experience using chakra (apparently the energy gods used was different) and had even less experience training, she just always knew what she could do and how to do it (though, she did say that lately she’s been curious about her capabilities).

  
  


Turns out, anger isn’t exactly conducive to finesse and the slightly diminished explosions I was producing got significantly larger. Frowning, I sat down with a huff, “Fuckin’ trees… I’mma level Konoha just to get revenge on the damn trees…” I petulantly grumbled. Laying back I stared up at the clouds with a sigh, “This is gonna take a while…” 

  
  


And take a while it did; three weeks and over twenty acres of shredded trees later I finally managed to stick to one with only minor cracks radiating from the point of contact! Honestly I’m surprised the endless (almost rhythmic) explosions day and night didn’t attract any curious ninjas; though they may have thought a high level battle was going on and didn’t want to get caught in the middle of it. Like cowardly rats, these ninjas.

  
  


A massive smile spread across my face as I slowly placed one foot in front of the other and walked up the tree, only greatly weakening its structural stability rather than blowing it to pieces. I was inordinately proud of myself for managing the most basic ninja technique; but hell, you need to take pride in yourself or you’ll go mad. “Hahahahahahahahaha!” Okay, the cackling may be taking it a tiny bit too far; maybe I already sailed past “mad” on a jet ski full of cocaine.

  
  


A creaking sound drew my gaze to my feet. My smile faded as I saw just how damaged the tree was from my continued presence. I jumped off, landing a few feet away as the large and numerous cracks across the tree groaned ominously. A few seconds passed in relative silence before the tree gave one last sad groan and collapsed to the ground in pieces. 

  
  


I stared at the rubble for a long moment, even Jashin was silent in my thoughts. “Huh… guess I need even more practice than I thought.” I mumbled, sheepishly scratching the back of my head. Jashin’s voice tore me from my thoughts.

  
  


**_“Four shinobi are approaching; three in a semi-circle behind you and one coming straight in front. Judging by the blood they’ve spilt the one coming head on is a Jounin and the other three are somewhat seasoned Genin.”_ ** I frowned, seems these ninjas are closer to vultures than rats; a much more respectable thing to be in my opinion (there is nothing as disgusting as a parasite; better a scavenger than a parasite). 

  
  


_ “Thank you Jashin; I’ll kill them in you name.”  _ It was an ease promise to make; I had no intention of letting any information get out at this stage. Just letting them go was never an option. I’m sure Jashin knew this (she can read my fucking mind after all), but she didn’t seem bothered by my hazy dedication to mass murder.

  
  


I didn’t bother turning to face the Genin; no strategy mere Genin could come up with would bother me, especially considering they don’t know I’m a True Immortal. ...Well, at least I think so; not sure what would happen if they atomized me (nor am I willing to test it). 

  
  


**_“You would be fine; as my champion I possess your soul, what happens to your body is irrelevant. As our relationship gets stronger and you sacrifice more souls to me, my grasp gets stronger on your soul and you literally grow closer to the center of my being. This comes with a number of benefits… but I do not think now is the best time to discuss such.”_ ** Well… that’s interesting; both somewhat comforting (True Immortality bitches!) and somewhat disturbing (my soul is swimming in evil…). Good to have that confirmed, but even if atomization could kill me, I highly doubt any Genin could achieve such a glorious feat of annihilation.

  
  


The Jonin walked out of a section of undamaged trees as cocky as could be; fucker was damn sure he could take me. This green-haired, blue-eyed bitch is gonna fucking choke on that smile. 

  
  


I smirked, resting my scythe on my shoulder as he opened his mouth to spew some nonsense. I cut him off before he could flap his gums, “Wow, you must really not care about your Genin.”

  
  


He blinked, taken off guard by my statement (and possibly noticing my subtle assertion of dominance by speaking first). “What?” he asked stupidly, a confused and startled expression on his face.

  
  


My smirk grew, “Your little students up in the trees. You must really not give a shit what happens to them to take them with you to fight me. Need some meat shields, eh?”

  
  


His smug expression returned, though it was noticeably false nd shaken. “I highly doubt someone like you could take a team of Genin, even if I did have any. Which I don't.”

  
  


My smirk turned to a grin as I heard one of the aforementioned Genin shift in the tree behind me, disrupting some leafs in a very noticeable manner. I raised an eyebrow mockingly, “That so, huh? ‘Spose ya wouldn't mind if I killed those brats then, would ya? Maybe have some fun with the girly?” I was never a very moral man, but even I could tell that having my soul submersed in the essence of a god of evil al-la Angra Manyu was having rather noticeable effects if I was (more than) contemplating raping a teenage girl. I mean, by this cultures standards she was an adult the moment she put on the headband (likely to compensate for this exact scenario, come to think of it), but she sure as fuck wasn't by mine. Meh, can't exactly be the champion of a god like Jashin if ya let little things like any remnant of morality still floating around in your head bother you; besides, it's not like it ever stopped anyone in my world even when it was way less culturally acceptable.

  
  


His face went cold, blue eyes hardening to resemble ice. I could see he was about to go into some impassioned speech about killing me ‘cause I'm a rabid animal or a monster or whatever. This time I didn't even have to interrupt him myself; his Genin did it for me!

  
  


The dumbass who disturbed the leafs leapt out with a snarl, aiming his kunai to slam into the top of my head. He was coming from behind and to the left, as if he thought being on the opposite shoulder to my scythe would help him. 

  
  


My arm moved back, sloping my scythe towards the ground before jerking sharply downwards; slamming all three blades into the brash youth’s chest. His small size meant the massive blades nearly bisected him even just with a stab, the top blade impaled through his groin.

  
  


I carried through with the strike, driving both blades and boy into the earth before me. A massive grin stretched across my face as I made sure to lock my near lustful purple eyes with the shocked and horrified blue of the Jounin before I ripped the blade back, tearing out through the boy’s skull and dragging what innards weren't sliced apart out of his body.

  
  


His intestines and a couple organs trailed behind my blade as I whirled around to block the sword swipe a more competent ninja aimed at my back. I nearly applauded the brave and ice cold Genin for seeing his teammate’s death as an opportunity to kill me while my blade was busy. Nearly.

  
  


Instead I blocked his swipe with the haft of my scythe, pulling the blades back from where they loomed behind him. To my mild surprise he almost managed to dodge, only losing his sword arm instead of his head. Even with the mild respect (honestly, this Genin could have gone places if he hadn't met me) I held for the child I wasn't dumb enough to leave an enemy alive when they still had enough limbs to attack me. My left hand shot forward and grabbed his face, crushing his skull between my fingers in a single squeeze.

  
  


I laughed at the sounds of the remaining Genin puking from her position paralyzed with fear on her tree; idiot, what did she expect when she became a Shinobi? Death and worse lurk around every corner when you fly the colours; what her friends got is a mercy compared to what I'll do to her. 

  
  


My psychotic grin added a bit of lust to its normal bloodlust as I felt Jashin’s approval of my plans. My musings were interrupted by a sword skewering me through the back, penetrating my heart and exploding out my chest. Honestly, I’m surprised this didn’t happen earlier; despite my immense strength, decent skill (mostly do to Hidan’s muscle memories), and creativity, I had no real training and had mostly been running on luck to pull off the cool shit I did.

  
  


I turned my head to look at the Jounin’s grim face, blood dripping out through my grin. I coughed out a spray of blood as he pulled his blade from my chest, stumbling forward a few steps before collapsing to the earth. I listened as Jashin described what my eyes couldn’t see; the Jounin stepped forward to comfort the Genin girl who apparently fell from the tree while I was distracted by being stabbed.

  
  


As he wrapped comforting arms around her in a distinctly familial embrace I noticed the similarities between the two. Blue eyes, green hair, tanned skin; they looked too similar to not be related. Hmhmhmhmhm, I’m gonna make him suffer.

  
  


I rose silently like the specter of death behind him; a sickle like grin spread across my face as I drew back my scythe. I dashed forward and slammed my blades through the back of both his knees; drawing a pained scream from his lips. A cruel laugh leaked from my savage grin as I twisted my blade to draw more screams from him before pulling it to the side; severing one leg and leaving the other dangling by a few scraps of flesh. 

  
  


My laughter spiked as I grabbed his forehead, pulling his head back as I hooked my scythe under his right arm. “Is she your daughter?” I asked, deceptively lightly before pulling my blade back, severing his arm. “Or perhaps your sister?” Another question, another arm.

  
  


I didn’t bother waiting for him to answer (I rather doubt he would have even if I had; he seemed rather preoccupied with screaming) and instead wrapped a hand around his throat and lifted him into the air. I smirked into his face, “I suppose it doesn’t really matter; you care for her, and thusly I can hurt you through her…“ I didn’t bother to tell him I was going to do this regardless; let him think he caused her suffering. I carried him a short distance to the very tree his likely daughter fell from. Slamming my scythe into the ground I unsheathed his blade from its sheath, making a show of examining it before ramming all three feet through his gut and into the tree behind him. I smiled at him, watching as he cringed before pulling out a kunai. “I can’t have you closing those eyes, now can I?” With a near gentle smile I sliced off his eyelids; he won’t be needing them soon anyway.

  
  


Wiping my kunai off on his chest and tucking it back into its pouch I turned towards the girl, smirking at her paralysed form. She was just so fucking pathetic; how did she ever expect to be a ninja if she freezes in the face of danger? Maybe she didn't; perhaps her father forced her down the same path he took? Well then, looks like he may be suffering more than I thought.

  
  


I paused in my approach, turning to look at the man behind me thoughtfully.  _ ‘Can I force my curse technique on others? Like, if I make someone else perform the ritual against their will, would it still work even if their not a Jashinist?’  _ I didn't really have to, but I deliberately sent my thoughts to Jashin none the less.

  
  


A moment passed before she replied,  **_“Normally no. But as you’re my champion, I'll allow it.”_ **

  
  


A dark grin spread across my face as I reached out and scooped up some of the blood flowing from one of the man's arms. Seeing the girl starting to actually wake up from whatever catatonia she had fallen into I dashed over to her, grabbing her face and hooking my fingers on her jaw bone, using the leverage to force it open. I couldn’t help but laugh as I poured her father’s blood down her throat, using the same hand that forced open her mouth to massage her throat, forcing her to swallow. My laughter grew higher in pitch as I cut open her forehead, drawing enough blood to form the ritual circle.

  
  


Malice rolled off me like a toxic miasma as I watched her skin blacken and white, bone like markings spread across her. Turning my head, I smiled at her father… before slamming the back of my scythe into her jaw, sending her shattered teeth down her throat. Based on the gurgling scream her father gave the curse was in full effect; perfect.

  
  


I pulled my cock out with an evil smile (huh, Hidan really was blessed) and rammed it down her throat (turns out, blood, tears, and saliva make decent lube). She was tight in a way only the unwilling (or very experienced) can be (though her age may have something to do with that), her throat writhing and spasming around me. The warm, wet tightness combined with the spasming felt divine (especially since Jashin seemed to fully agree); though what really pushed me over the edge was the look of hopeless misery and despair in her eyes.

  
  


She choked even more as I came down her throat, making sure to pull out enough to splatter some on her face and bleeding gums. She coughed and sputtered, vomiting a pinkish mix of fluids onto the ground and all over herself. Her wide tear filled eyes stayed firmly locked on the ground: perhaps she thought this was the end? Honestly, she should hope I keep going; the longer she entertains me, the longer she lives… though she may not prefer that all things considered. 

  
  


I reached forward, grasping the hem of her dress. With my great strength tearing the piece of clothing was beyond simple. She screamed more, actually trying to crawl away for the first time. I  _ may  _ have dislocated her hips when I roughly spread her legs apart, but I can’t say I really care either way.

  
  


I ripped her pink polka dot panties (really? Seriously, how the hell did she think she could be a kunoichi like this) off, lining myself up with her pink slit before pausing. I turned to look back at her father, grinning at him as I reversed my position, insuring his lidless eyes (that seemed to have gone hazy from blood loss) could see as I entered her. I wonder if he’ll be able to feel it as if he had a vagina to violate or if it’ll simply feel like a strange pain in his groin? 

  
  


My turgid cock speared the girls virgin flower like a harpoon stabbing a mouse, eliciting a scream of agony and violation from her and a hopeless moan from her father. Her pussy was even tighter than her throat and as a plus, I didn’t get shards of teeth embedded in my dick! A few minutes of thrusting later and I once more emptied my balls insider her; though, judging by the way she begged and pleaded she considered this much worse. I’m not quite sure why; it’s not like she’s gonna live long enough for pregnancy to be an issue.

  
  


Cum and blood (confirming her former virginity… or maybe my dick was just to huge for her? Possibly the shards of teeth getting dislodged inside her?) leaked from her violated pussy as I shifted her in my lap; positioning myself to line up with her ass. Hopefully blood and cum will make good enough lube that I won’t get friction burns; that would kind of suck, though not much worse than the shards of teeth did.

  
  


I spared her father a glance, frowning at what I saw; seems he either had or was very nearly bled out (though I’m fairly certain he’s at least still alive considering the girl’s skin hasn’t turned back). Well then, guess I’ll have to hurry up if I want him to feel this last part; sepsis and exsanguination wait for no man! 

  
  


Even with a body almost as broken as her soul, the girls instincts still had her clenching to prevent my intrusion. It did her little good (probably just made it worse honestly); she had nowhere near enough strength to stop me. I groaned somewhat as I entered her last virgin hole; her ass was by far her tightest hole, almost uncomfortably so. 

  
  


While lacking the natural lubrication of both her mouth and cunt, the shear tightness of her ass more than made up for it. My cock was so sensitive from cuming twice in quick seccesion (thank Jashin for taking away my refractory period) it didn’t take long to reach orgasm once again.

  
  


I stood up, letting her fall to the ground as she slipped off my cock. Leaning down, I grabbed her hair and used it to pull her into a kneeling position; she didn’t even have it in her to whimper any more. I started humming as I tugged on my cord to pull my scythe to my hand from where it was stabbed into the ground next to the Jounin’s tree.

  
  


I brought the blades to her violated crotch, sticking the top most blade in.  _ That _ seemed to get her attention as she somehow found the energy to scream again. She stopped when I pulled sharply upwards, divesting her of her innards. Her internal organs spilled onto the ground as I pulled my scythe from her chest and throat. I watched almost boredly as the same wound was replicated on her father; the sadistic rush is kinda lost when they’re not conscious to feel the pain.

  
  


In the end they meant nothing to me; just toys to sate my lust and malice on. I didn’t care that they were important to someone; so long as that someone isn’t me they may as well be living dolls for all I care. Perhaps this whole bout of savage cruelty was a result of Jashin lowering my inhibitions, perhaps it was just the thought that no one I cared about would be hurt by my actions, perhaps it was the freedom and sense of detachment one gets when torn from their home world; regardless the result was the same. Funny just how much evil one is willing to commit to strangers, eh? 

  
  


I walked forward, pulling my bingo book from my pocket and flicking through it to see if the man had a bounty. Using my scythe to push his head back to get a better look at him, turning his head this way and that and comparing his image to a few different pictures (it’s surprising just how many green haired, blue eyes Jounin there are) before smirking in triumph. “Heh, lucky me; another bounty just drops into my lap.” 

  
  


I blinked as he fell to the earth at my feet, the massive wound covering his entire abdomen enabling his body to twist enough for the blade to cut through him rather than hold him in place. Shrugging I reached down, grabbing him by his hair like I had his daughter and tossing him into the air; skewering him on my blade just like my last bounty. 

  
  


Whistling a merry tune I collected my bags from where I set them before beginning training and set off towards the only bounty station I knew. I didn’t even glance back at the Genin’s corpses; why should I care for broken toys?

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
  


This time my entrance caused a bit of a stir; apparently a corpse impaled on a scythe with a slit throat is less disturbing than a man who was obviously torture to death. Hmph, fucking double standards! Even so, no one bothered me as I walked to the restroom.

  
  


The station keeper merely raised an eyebrow at the state the body was in, “Wow, you’re one twisted son of bitch, aren’t ya?” Shaking his head, he examined the body, taking far less time than previously (possibly due to the corpse possessing fewer limbs, possibly because I was becoming a known factor) before handing over the money. A quick check told me there was no tracking device this time. 

  
  


I smiled as I walked out; the weight of the bags I had tied around my waste reminding me it was about time I use some of my newly acquired funds to purchase some supplies. While I could probably just steal it, I would be easier to just buy it legit if I can afford it rather than go through the hassle of stealing it.

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
  


The police chief grimaced, puffing on his cigar as he stepped from his car into the rain. His secretary helpfully held a umbrella over his head to shield him from the downpour; he offered the eager young hopeful a nod in acknowledgement.  _ ‘Kids gonna get a real shock when he sees just how awful the world really is.’   _ He grimaced at the line of officers arrayed around the perimeter of the hospital.  _ ‘Just, hopefully not today.’ _

  
  


He walked to the officer in charge, “What’s the situation?” He barked without preamble.

  
  


The man, a decorated veteran officer was grim faced as he turned to his superior, “Bad, sir. We received a call not long ago that some psycho was attacking the hospital.”

  
  


The chief raised an eyebrow, “Why have you not sent men in to handle this guy then?” He wasn’t surprised to see his subordinates mien grow even more grim.

  
  


“We did. We lost contact half an hour ago. Their last reports were… unsettling. And confusing.” The officer sighed, pulling out a packet of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and grimacing at its soaked state.

  
  


The chief's face hardened, “Confusing how?” He didn’t want to hear why it was disturbing, he already had a pretty good idea.

  
  


The officer’s dark eyes were haunted, “They said they shot him twenty seven times. That was before he strangled one with another’s intestines.” He pointed at a window on the third floor, “If you look closely you can probably still see him hanging there.” 

  
  


That was… shocking to say the least. “Do you think drugs are involved?” Back in his days as a beat cop he once encountered a drugged up loon who seemed to shrug off damage right up until he took a round to the eye. Bastard managed to stab his partner in the throat before he took him down.

  
  


The officer gave him an incredulous look, “I don’t know what drugs you’ve seen, but I’ve never heard of anything that can let a man shrug of six rounds to the temple at point blank range like it was nothing.”

  
  


Now the chief’s eyes widened. He was about to respond when the hospital’s front door was kicked open. A man dressed in a tattered and blood-stained patient’s gown stood in the doorway, laughing psychotically and shouting in what the chief vaguely recognized as Japanese; though it was no dialect he had ever heard. The madman brandished a long amputation knife in one hand from which he licked blood… the other held a severed head, its ragged esophagus and bits of spine hanging from the shredded stump of its neck.

  
  


The man barely had time to toss the head at the line of police and SWAT before the space he occupied was filled with copious amounts of lead. The startled and enraged lawmen fired every last round they had into the deranged killer; emptying pistols, shotguns, and assault rifles into him.

  
  


A long moment of silence passed as the last gun clicked empty… then the laughing started anew.


	3. Merc With A Scythe

**Merc With A Scythe**

  
  


If my encounter with that Genin team taught me anything, it’s that I rely too much on surprising people with my immortality. If that Jounin had known I was immortal he very well might have cut me to pieces rather than just stab me; I may not be able to die but that doesn’t mean I can’t be incapacitate or captured. I’ve been lucky so far that no one is aware I can’t just be killed, but relying on luck is how you wind up burned to ashes and shot into space.

  
  


However, right now gathering supplies took priority over actively training. First things first; a change of wardrobe is in order! It was surprisingly easy to find a store tailored to ninjas considering this isn’t a ninja village; though I suppose some enterprising asshole saw the constant influx of bounty hunters and decided to take advantage. I’m more surprised said bounty hunters didn’t kill him for potentially revealing one of their bases of operation to the world; most bounty hunters are missing-nin and they tend not to be so open about their movements.

  
  


Even more surprising than their being a ninja supply store was their being several; each catering to different needs ninjas (and more specifically: bounty hunters) have. Finding one that sold clothing was fairly easy, and it was conveniently located right next to one that sold weapons! Now all I need is a place that sells storage and explosive seals (much as I would like to just make them myself, I have no Jashin damned idea how).

  
  


My customary smirk afixed to my face, I pushed open the door to the clothing store, grimacing slightly at the small bell that chimed as I did. The storekeeper was an elderly man, dull brown eyes under gray hair on a wrinkled face. Even as worn down by time as he was he bore himself with an air of good humour, a small smile beneath glittering eyes. I hated him immediately.

  
  


I returned his smile with one of my own, “Do you, perchance, have combat boots?” Always pays to be polite (unless it’s time to drop facades and false faces). Besides, I’m more likely to get out of here (and away from that monstrous display of faux-happiness) quickly if I’m (relatively) polite rather than combative. Even though my pocketed hands are twitching to pull a kunai and slit him up; make him show how he  _ really  _ feels.

  
  


That disgusting twinkle hiding a wellspring of misery seemed to grow brighter at my words, “Combat boots you say? Why, I haven’t had someone ask for those in…” He trailed off, staring at a spot to the left of me with dimmed eyes; that damnable twinkle momentarily faded, loss and sorrow shining through. 

  
  


He shook his head, smiling to cover his slip, “Sorry, son; sometimes this old brain o’ mine slips into old memories.” He shook his head ruefully, “Combat boots, was it? Bit of an odd choice there, boyo. Most ninjas don’t like ‘em, say they get in the way of channeling chakra or some such.” 

  
  


I could feel my polite smile twitching minutely as the man rambled; my desire to shove his severed cock down his throat had lessened with that brief glimpse of the despair behind his smile but if he starts fucking lecturing me I’mma strangle him with his own fucking guts. “I’m aware,” I really wasn’t, but I can’t say I particularly care. “Even so, I know what I want.” One smart remark and I’m burning this place down.

  
  


He simply gave a shrug and a genial smile, “To each their own, I suppose.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, pointing vaguely towards a section of what appeared to be footwear. “There’s a few in the corner back there; some civilians like to wear ‘em to look hard…” Something in his expression changed, a hardness that hadn’t been there before. “No, you’re the real deal ain’t cha?” His eyes were evaluating and cold, looking me over and seeing a threat rather than a customer. “Not like those flashy morons who tromp around and spout jutsu like they’re goin’ outta style; you know what it’s like to feel a man’s life bleed out all over your hands, to watch the light leave a little girl’s eyes because she thought she had what it takes to be a ninja.” With a start I realized this man may well have been a retired ninja, possibly even from the Warring Clans Era considering his age (and my lack of knowledge of where I am in the timeline; knowing Kakuzu is active tells me little more than the fact that ninja villages exist, he was ninety Jashin damned years olds in Shippuden). 

  
  


His suddenly dim eyes looked me over for a moment, seeing something I can’t. “Why exactly, do you want combat boots?” He finally questioned after a long moment of silence.

  
  


I pointedly didn’t smirk, “They’re better for kicking with and protect you from the elements more than sandals.” Simple and true. Somehow I felt honesty was warranted here.

  
  


He smirked darkly, eyes flickering to the dark stains on my shoes and pant legs (I’m just glad Hidan doesn’t wear a shirt or I’d have to replace it after that asshole stabbed me). “And because they’re better for crushing skulls, hm?” 

  
  


I shrug, “Isn’t that implied? I did say they were better for kicking.” A smirk to match the man I was coming to realize I rather liked spread across my face; it seems more than misery hid behind that vapid smile.

  
  


He laughed, “Aye, boyo; I suppose so.” He reached beneath the counter and tossed something at me. 

  
  


Catching it on instinct I saw it was a key, “The good stuff is in the way back; pick out whatever you want and we’ll negotiate a price.”

  
  


I smiled, giving him a nod as I subtly checked the key for poisons and explosive seals (not that either would really matter, though getting blown up would be annoying). Based on the approving look on the shopkeeper’s face I wasn’t as subtle as I could have hoped. 

  
  


Finding nothing, I made my way to the back of the store, glancing at the wares on display as I passed; they all look pretty decent to me. While he hadn’t exactly indicated where this “back” he spoke of was located, I figured a door partially concealed behind a rack of cloaks was a safe bet. 

  
  


Fitting the key into the lock I found my guess to have been correct. The door opened soundlessly into a pitch black room that had my danger senses blaring like crazy. Even with the GTFO sirens screaming I decided to step into the room, groping the side wall for a light switch. Eventually my questing hand found what I was seeking and the room lit up.

  
  


...For about two seconds before a burlap sack was pulled over my head and a syringe stabbed into my neck. Those two seconds were long enough for me to catch a glimpse of bloodstained cages and a pristine operating table.

  
  


I laughed, my left arm thrusting up to grasp my assailants elbow; continuing on to snap it in two. I roughly twisted the broken appendage, forcing the idiot to the ground with one hand while the other reached up to pull the sack from my face.

  
  


With the obstruction removed I could see who had been fool enough to try to drug me; a child, maybe seven or eight years old stared up at me from the ground with terrified pink eyes framed by a messy mop of blue hair. I shifted my grasp to close my hand around the boy’s throat; silencing the scream I could see building on his lips. He struggled and choked; unable to draw breath past my powerful grip.

  
  


Idly pulling the (mostly) empty syringe from my throat I picked the boy-child up, closing the door behind me (and wondering why the old man hadn’t come running when the kid screamed). A dark smile spread across my face as I approached the surgical table. I slammed the kid onto the table and calmly set about strangling him; loosening my grasp just long enough to let him catch a breath in increasingly long intervals. I watched his expression with interest as he desperately clawed at my arm and hand; trying futilely to pry open my grasp with steadily weakening fingers. I watched and felt as the tears flowing from his eyes poured over my hand; honestly, what kind of idiot attacks someone without being prepared to be attacked in return? Never start a fight you’re not prepared to finish.

  
  


Before he could pass out I placed the syringe he stabbed me with over his left eye, allowing him to breath for a moment so he can properly process what’s about to happen. I wait until I see his eyes widen before plunging the syringe into his orbital, pushing down until the needle was fully immersed in his eye.

  
  


My face remained oddly blank as I depressed the plunger, blowing air and the remains of whatever drug the kid had intended to sedate me with into his eyeball before pulling it back and sucking out blood and the internals of his eye into the tube. I drove the needle in further and twisted it from side to side; insuring the eye was thoroughly ruined (and increasing the pain inflicted). The boy's single functioning eye was spinning rapidly in its socket; blood pouring from the mutilated one as I pulled the syringe out.

  
  


I smirk faintly as I push the needle into his right lung, injecting the contents straight into the empty organ. I chuckle quietly as he begins spasming harder at the liquid intrusion where only air should go. I repeat the process six times before growing bored and jamming the needle all the way into his chest; shattering it (and some bones) with a single sharp punch to the chest.

  
  


Even with my tight grasp around his throat, blood was burrbling out between his lips; joining his tears in dirtying my hand. I glanced away from the kid, looking over the array of surgical tools available to me, smiling when I spotted my prize; a gleaming, serrated bone saw. My long fingers wrapped around the handle, holding the blade upside down.

  
  


Grinning, I held the blade before the futility gasping boy’s single eye; once more waiting for him to see it and comprehend before acting. I slowly slid the blade between his legs, making sure he could feel it crawling towards him by dragging it along his legs. Eventually the serrated edge met his crotch, pressing into his tiny testicals through the (noticeably filthy and ragged) blue shorts he wore. I looked him straight in his single eye and gave him the gentlest smile I could fake… before slowly sawing upwards.

  
  


He writhed and spasmed, the jerking movements only making the saw bite all the deeper as his body desperately tried to move away from it. Blood poured like a river from the open wound and I knew I didn’t have much time before he bled out. I sped up my sawing when I hit the base of his spine; while the destruction of such an important part of him meant that he lost feeling below each destroyed segment, it also caused unbelievable pain throughout his entire body. If only I knew how to form lightning chakra, then I could really fuck with his system.

  
  


I was about halfway up his torso when the door behind me opened, though by that point the boy was long dead (weather from blood loss or shock I don’t know or particularly care). I turned my neck in a deliberately awkward manner to see the same old man who sent me back here watching me with the same cold eyes he had  _ when  _ he sent me back here. His gaze flickers to what little of the boy is visible past me (mostly just blood, but I suppose that says enough) before returning back to my face. “Hmph, good help is so hard to find. Better you kill the brat than make me waste my time doing it myself.”

  
  


I raised an eyebrow, “I kinda expected you to be more angry.”

  
  


He laughed, a cold, dark, and dusty sound like wind blowing through a tomb. “Angry? Why should I cry over such a useless subordinate like him?” 

  
  


I turned to fully face him, leaving the bone saw in the boy's guts. Crossing my arms and leaning against the surgical table I look the man over more closely. I have no idea what he had planned for me but I could only presume it was nothing good; the fact he didn’t seem bothered by his plan being interrupted only unsettled me more. 

  
  


I kept the scowl from my face with some effort as he looked me up and down. “Have you ever considered mercenary work, boyo?” 

  
  


I blinked at the non-sequitur, before letting a grin spread across my face. “I have. Why do you ask?” I have a pretty good guess where this is going, but I want to hear it from his own mouth.

  
  


He smirked, “Well, I suddenly find myself in need of someone to procure… goods for me.” He waved extravagantly towards the foul smelling cages lining the walls, “You see, I am no mere slaver; I sell… specialized goods; slaves that have been modified to suit the buyer’s tastes. I use a variety of seals and medical procedures to take your average schlock and turn them into something  _ wonderful _ .” There was a less than sane gleam in his eyes as he discussed his work but I didn’t mind; man has pride in what he does, who am I to say he shouldn’t? It honestly sounds rather impressive and the thought of modifying people to suit preferences set some ideas rolling around my head.

  
  


I wave my right arm to forestall the rant I could see coming, “Alright, I’m guessing you want me to nabb some plebs of the streets so you can work your magic on ‘em, eh?” I raise my hand, three fingers extended, “Three conditions. Number one: If who ever I snatch has a bounty, you need to offer a higher price than their bounty or I’ll just turn them in.”

  
  


He flicked his wrist, as if brushing aside the idea, “If I require someone who has a bounty on their head you will be compensated appropriately of course; though I doubt I ever will require such specific materials.”

  
  


I nodded, lowering one finger. “Number two: How much am I being paid?”

  
  


He smirked, “Fifteen thousand for men, twenty for women, twenty five for male children, thirty for female children, and fifty for people with bloodlines or rare traits.”

  
  


“Number three: you said you use seals and medical procedures, right? Teach me what you know and I’ll let you take the cost of the lessons out of my bill. If you’re concerned that I may go into business in competition with you; you needn’t worry, I want the knowledge for personal reasons.” Honestly, I don’t much need the money but knowledge has a power all on its own.

  
  


Had I been a lesser (better) man, the look he gave me would have filled me with disgust, “Oh, looking to get yourself some custom lovers, eh?” Suddenly the perverted gleam left his eyes, “I’m no true expert with seals; I barely count as a journeyman and I’ve been studying for forty years.” He broke off in muttered expletives apparently aimed towards “that damn lucky brat Jiraiya”.

  
  


I raised an eyebrow, he may not know it (in fact, I highly doubt he does) but that bit of cursing out Jiraiya told me more about the setting than anything else (Minato and Itachi’s absence from the Bingo Book only told me they hadn’t committed their respective massacres yet; which only tells me where I’m  _ not _ , not where I am); I now know that Jiraiya is a well known name and currently a seal master of some renown. Knowing that Jiraiya is famous, Itachi hasn’t massacred his clan, and Minato hasn’t earned his moniker gives me a rough estimate of where I am in the timeline; somewhere between the end of the Second Shinobi World War and the Third. Of course, there’s always the possibility that my Bingo Book is simply out of date; but I doubt it considering how much its original owner cared about his bounty.

  
  


“Journeyman is still more than I know. Besides, you know some seals someone like Jiraiya most certainly knows nothing about.” Might as well inflate his ego, he'll be more likely to agree with his head in the clouds.

  
  


Judging by the massive smirk on his face, comparing him positively to Jiraiya worked like a charm. “You’re right! I’m better than that brat, and that whore Tsunade would never even think of using some of the medical jutsu  _ I’ve  _ invented!” I decided not to mention that she likely could, but simply wouldn’t because she has one of those pesky moral codes.

  
  


I nod agreeable, “And every master needs an apprentice to carry on their works, their legacy. If no one knows of your techniques, no one will ever be able to appreciate your genius.” I  _ may _ be laying it on a but thick, but I really do want to learn what he knows; not  _ just _ for the sexual avenues they open up. The techniques used by a slaver like him could (probably) easily be modified for combat and subterfuge… and I could use them to get a bitchin’ harem.

  
  


No way am I gonna be one o’ them misery guts immortals who spend their time whining about how awful it is to  _ live forever! _ Seriously, if you can't see the positives of eternal life you are one boring motherfucker. 

  
  


The “doctor” laughed, “Haha… you think I don’t see what you’re doing?” He glared at me, a maniacal gleam in his dark eyes visible behind the cold edge as his face went blank… before an even bigger grin spread across it. “Doesn’t make you wrong though. Yes, yes, I think I will teach you what I know…” He trailed off, “I am getting on in years.” I don’t think I was meant to hear that last part. His drifting gaze locks back on my amused eyes, “Alright, bring me three subjects and we’ll start your first lesson.”

  
  


I smirk, pushing off the table and walking towards the door. “Alright then; any preferences on who I snatch?”

  
  


He shakes his head, making sure to stay outside the perceived range of my scythe as I pass. “I don’t particularly care. Though I  _ do _ have one caveat; do not take anyone from this village.” I Turn to look at him from the door, raising an eyebrow to emphasise the unasked question. “He chuckles quietly, “Whilst I have no particular care for them, plebeian fools that they are; it wouldn’t be good to attract attention to our business. Even some so called ninja seem to get hung up over petty things like “basic human dignity” and “rights”; utter nonsense, of course. As if the very villages they serve haven’t violated those imagined rules daily since their inception.” He shakes his head in disgust, pulling a scroll from the inside pocket of his brown cardigan and tossing it to me. I didn’t bother telling him that it was actually more suspicious for no one to be taken from an area than for it to be just as preyed upon; why should I care if his poor planning ends up killing him? So long as I get what I want before he bites it I’m fine. “On that note; that is a transport scroll of my own design. They’re not exactly good for the mental health of the transported;  but that’s not really a concern, now is it?”

  
  


I catch the scroll easily, examining it for a moment before slipping it into my pocket with a nod. I opened the door (which I now saw was actually metal painted to look like wood on the outside). I paused at the door, leaning back in to see the doctor setting about cleaning up the surgical table I so rudely made a mess of, “Hey can I still grab some clothes, or…”

  
  


He sighed, waving a hand vaguely in my direction as he sprayed a suspicious liquid over the table (having already thrown the body into one of the cages), “Yes yes, take whatever you want. As your employer and sensei I can't have you tromping about in rags; it would ruin my image if you were to represent me looking like some common street rat.” I smirked and quietly closed the door behind me, grinning at the racks of clothing before me; time to get some better gear.

  
  


I left the shop decked out in brand spanking new clothes; dark (almost black) purple pants, an equally dark red hoodie with a shitload of pockets worn unzipped to reveal a black t-shirt (that I drew a symbol of Jashin on with blood (given that literally no one knew about Jashinism to the point that Konoha thought Hidan may have entirely fabricated the religion, I figured it was safe enough to have a symbol of my allegiance on display (Jashin seemed very pleased with my display of loyalty, purring discordantly in my head)), and, perhaps most importantly, a pair of sturdy black combat boots. 

  
  


Smirking, I wandered out of the front for organized slavery; twirling my scythe and placing it on my back as I headed out in search of unfortunates to sell into a life of unending misery and despair (taking a quick and uneventful stop at the store next door to buy some weapons and storage seals). I shadowed my eyes with a hand as I looked in random directions; trying to decide which way to go. I have absolutely no idea where I am (even if I did know the village’s name, I don’t exactly have a map to make use of the reference) and thusly couldn’t figure out what was nearby. 

  
  


Shrugging my shoulders I decided to just follow the path outside the main entrance to the village; with any luck it would lead me to another village. I have no idea what the maximum occupancy of the scroll the doctor (who’s name I really should have asked for) gave me, but I intend to fill the fucker up; always better to overperform than underperform, after all… well usually anyway. 

  
  


Luckily for me the village was only a three day walk (without breaks) from another little hamlet in the middle of fucking nowhere. Now, considering my express purpose in coming here was to enslave the populous, I decided it would be best to scope the place out before rushing in. A few days hiding in a tree told me that this wasn’t a ninja village (though Jashin already told me that before I even arrived; interestingly, the town  _ did _ contain a serial killer, but no true ninjas) and more importantly, where people went at different times. By figuring out people’s general schedule I could find the best time to strike to maximize captures while minimising risk and casualties (dead bodies are of little use to a slaver).

  
  


One week after my arrival I attacked at three in the morning; using the cover of night to veil my approach and trusting in my observations that most would be asleep. The first building I approached was a little home on the edge of town just big enough for a family of three (perhaps four if you stretch it) to live comfortably. A quick check told me the door was locked but fortunately (for me, not so much for them) they didn’t lock their windows.

  
  


Crawling through a window I found myself in what was clearly a child’s bedroom; this fact was exemplified by the sleeping child. I smirked, pulling the human transport scroll out of one of the numerous pockets in my hoodie and silently moving to stand over the peacefully sleeping little girl. While I could have some fun with her and her mother, logic tells me she’ll be worth more unspoiled so I simply place the scroll seal first on her chest and pulse my chakra into it; smirking as the child vanishes in a poof of smoke.

  
  


I slipped from her room as quiet as my muscle memory would allow (surprisingly decent, really; though relying on skills I really don’t have is still annoying) and searched the place; making sure to swipe any valuables I could find (thank Jashin for storage seals!) on my way to the parents room. Unfortunately my instinctive stealth wasn’t as good as one could hope and the father, a grizzled looking man with an eyepatch over his left eye, confronted me as I left the kitchen (not much to steal considering my lack of nutritional needs, but fine cookware could go for something and if worst comes to worse I can always use a kitchen knife as a weapon). By “confronted” I mean “attempted to stab me in the throat from behind with a tanto”. Of course, with Jashin’s warning his attempt failed miserably.

  
  


I whirled as soon as the man attacked, grabbing his wrist with one hand and his throat with the other (having placed my scrolls in my pockets upon hearing Jashin’s warning that someone was approaching with intent to harm). He stared at me with hatred in his gaze, his dark eyes flicking to the symbol emblazoned proudly on my shirt before returning to my own amused eyes. Oddly, it seemed the man recognised the symbol if the way his hatred doubled upon spotting it was anything to go by.

  
  


I smirked at him, squeezing his wrist until he dropped the blade, “Oh, recognise that symbol do ya? What, cha have a run in with a Jashinist in the past?” While I directed my mocking words to him I sent a question to Jashin herself,  _ “He’s not a Jashinist is he? I wouldn’t want to sell one of your cultists into slavery; not very champion like of me.” _

  
  


**_“He is no follower of mine, nor of any who oppose me. His recognition of my symbol is odd; most of my worshippers do not leave survivors.”_ ** I frowned internally, making sure my smirk remained on the outside. She’s right, Jashinists are so secretive that even the vast resources of one of the five great nations could find nothing about them; some bumblefuck farmer in the middle of assfuck nowhere recognising the symbol on sight was more than a touch odd.

  
  


Wait, opposition? Guess it makes sense for a god like Jashin to have rivals.  **_“Not rivals, they have nowhere near the strength to oppose me directly, they merely attempt to harry my disciples and hinder my efforts. Usually to no avail.”_ ** Huh, some do-gooder dickbags might be coming my way because of my connection to Jashin; good to know I guess. Still, the farmer’s recognition of my symbol is first and foremost of my problems right now.

  
  


Well, I have one way of getting answers; loosening my grip I let him draw enough breath to speak. He sputters, spitting a glob of saliva into my face, barely missing my eye; said eye narrows, the only warning he gets before I slam my fist into his gut. I nearly laughed at his choked expression of shock and pain as my fist drove what little air I had allowed from his lungs; only the crushing grip on his throat kept him from vomiting, though his body sure did try. I smirked, “How about we try that again, hmm?” I wiped my face of on his shirt sleeve, regaining my grip on the hand I had released to punish his impunity. “I want to know how you recognise my symbol; your going to tell me or I’ll cut off your cock and choke your wife to death with it while I rape her in front of you, okay?” I smiled pleasantly at the man, looking as if I hadn’t just issued a fairly heinous threat; though it hardly mattered considering his probable fate once I handed him over to the doctor.

  
  


He sputtered and choked, desperately drawing air through a more than slightly constricted throat. After sputtering for several minutes (during which I got more and more agitated; I’m on a schedule, Jashin Damn it!) he finally started talking, “You… fucking scum... proudly wearing the symbol of that monster!”

  
  


I blinked, of all the ways of describing a god of evil, monster seems a rather benign choice. I raised an eyebrow, “And what monster would that be, hmm?” I wanted confirmation; it was fully possible he was associating my symbol with someone else (in which case I should probably kill them; can’t have some pretender ruining my image) and actually knew nothing about Jashin or her cultists.

  
  


Hatred burned in his eye like little campfires; of course, that only made my smirk grow minutely. “The Endbringer, The Dawneater, The Unbeing, The Dar- Gurk!” He was cut off when a knife plunged into his back, courtesy of the wife I had forgotten about. 

  
  


I scowled, snapping his neck and tossing aside his body (no way I’m letting this cunt steal my kill, damn it!), glaring at the woman the whole time. “I was using that. You know, it’s rude to damage other people’s property; honestly, are manners just dead?” My sarcastic response to her blatantly killing her own husband seemed to throw her off a bit.

  
  


She was short (even by this world’s admittedly poor standards) with pale skin, blonde hair,and dull, mint green eyes. She wiped the surprise from her face and her eyes flickered to my symbol (what is with this fucking town and recognising the symbol of Jashin?) before her expression shifted to a glare.  “You have no right to bare his mark.”

  
  


Her tone was flat, but her eyes did nothing to hide her hate and disdain. I simply kept smirking, “Oh, who is this  _ he _ you speak of? I must say, this is certainly not his mark; perhaps I should have patented it, hmm?” My flippant response seemed to anger her more. While most people would be less willing to aggravate a woman who just cold bloodedly killed her husband;  _ I  _ am not most people! There was nothing she could do to kill me if all she has is a knife (not that she’d be any more successful with any other tool).

  
  


She scowled, “My Lord will be displeased to hear an unbeliever bore his mark as if it were their own.” 

  
  


I raised an eyebrow; that didn't answer fucking anything! Well, I suppose it did tell me this mysterious  _ he _ is likely the leader of some sort of cult…  _ “Is she one of your followers?”  _ I kept a close eye on her, expecting her to attack me at any moment.

  
  


A long moment passed before Jashin replied, seeming almost hesitant.  **_“No… she isn't. She has not given herself to me. Whomever has stolen my sigil must pay for his insolence... sacrifice her to me; I will break her, and she will tell me where her leader lays.”_ **

  
  


I blinked. Holy shit! I’m closer to Mercer than I thought! I can learn what people know by killing them?! Admittedly, it’s not quite the same; Jashin needs to torture them for information rather than me just ripping it from their minds but that only makes it marginally less useful. 

  
  


A knife plunging into my neck reminds me of where I am. Apparently my momentary conversation with Jashin (and the stunned revelation afterward) was enough of a distraction for this bitch to try something. I gave her a blood stained smirk, reaching up to grab the offending appendage. She attempted to pull her hand free, likely thinking a dying man’s grip wouldn’t be all that strong; she couldn’t have been more wrong. Shock spread over her face as she failed to pull her hand from my grasp; the fear in her eyes only increasing the amusement in mine. 

  
  


I slowly pulled the knife from my neck (laughing as the wet sucking noise it produced drew a disgusted expression from the woman) before slamming it into the wall next to me. “Well, aren’t you a rude one.” My hand shot forth, long fingers wrapping around her pale (though not as pale as me) throat, “I think I’ll have to punish you for that…” I trailed off sinisterly, enjoying the fear in here eyes; she knew exactly what I had in mind when I said that. Unfortunately, I was on a tight schedule here and probably didn’t have time to properly rape her...

  
  


I thought about it for a moment; what’s more important: enslaving the populous and getting back to the doctor promptly, or having fun… A dark grin spread across my face; meh, fuck punctuality, what’s the point of living if you don’t  _ indulge _ yourself, hmm? Besides; I don’t exactly have to worry about damaged goods anymore with her.

  
  


I tore her pajamas free, squeezing tighter around her throat to silence her screams (don’t want to wake the neighbors before I can capture them). I didn't particularly care if I strangled her to death (I was going to kill her for Jashin regardless), but I would prefer if she  _ didn’t _ die before I finished fucking her; while she wouldn’t cool quick enough to really ruin it (or rot quick enough to be distasteful), a lot of the fun is taken out if there's no mind to break.

  
  


I roughly groped her with the hand that wasn’t choking her while I thrusted into her; grinning at the way every squeeze and thrust drew a wince. My grin faded slightly when her expression blanked; apparently she had some sort of training to resist torture; though, judging by the tears in her eyes it wasn’t as effective as she might like.

  
  


A quick punch to the gut broke her self-induced fugue. While it was satisfying to see her sputter around my slightly loosened hand; I was getting kinda bored at this point (it’s kinda dull to torture something that doesn’t scream and cry properly). Unfortunately for her, the visceral satisfaction of beating her was far more interesting at this point than relatively harmless rape. So I kept doing it; punching randomly with one hand and strangling with the other, all while continuing to thrust into her pussy.

  
  


Every time my fist met her flesh her muscles involuntarily clenched, unintentionally squeezing my cock. The added stimuli of her random clenching alongside the sadistic thrill of physically beating someone to death brought me off rather quick; I timed my ejaculation to perfectly match a solid punch right to her solar plexus. 

  
  


Apparently, feeling my semen enter her womb managed to break her composure better than strangulation, blunt force trauma, and rape combined as she finally broke down crying, begging her lord to save her. As I stood up (dragging her with me, and pulling my pants up with one hand) I once more wondered why someone would worry about pregnancy when death is so much more likely. 

  
  


Discarding the thought I pulled the kitchen knife from the wall, holding it in a reverse grip as I held the woman aloft before me (making sure not to let any of the cum dripping from her cunt get on my brand new pants or shoes). I knew that as Jashin’s champion all of my kills count as sacrifices, but I figured I may as well be a little more formal with this one.

  
  


I slowly pushed the blade into her chest just deep enough to scrape her lungs, staring her in her wide, terrified eyes as I carved the symbol on my chest into her’s. Blood flowed down her chest and into her lungs, turning her breaths from choked to drowning as I pulled the blade free once more. Watching the blood bubble from her lips, I couldn't help but smile; god I'm fucked up… _but_ _I_ _love_ _it_. 

  
  


My smile grew, resembling my scythe in both curve and cruelty; if she's so worried about pregnancy, perhaps I should alleviate her fears? I plunged the eight inch blade into her womb, twisting the blade before pulling it out and stabbing her groin over and over again. Blood (and semen) gushed free, splattering up all over my arm (Jashin damn it; there goes my new coat!) as I viciously mutilated her.

  
  


I must have stabbed her fifty times before I got bored and just disemboweled her. I released my grip on her throat (she had too much blood in her lungs to scream anyway) and tossed my impromptu implement of sharp and pointy death aside, reaching down to pull out her guts. My bright eyes glittered as I wrapped her intestines around her throat (always wanted to do that!) and dragged her into the kitchen.

  
  


I hooked my foot on the stove handle, pulling it open with a grunt (being only mildly surprised that my barely struggling victim didn't try to capitalize on me literally standing on one leg). Smiling cheerfully, I shoved the bitch inside; slamming the door shut and cranking the heat all the way up. 

  
  


I stepped back, smirking sadistically.  If she's lucky she'll bleed out or drown before the oven heats up; I hope she's not particularly lucky (running into me kinda tells me she's not). My smirk twisted down as she pushed the door open, feebly attempting to crawl free as her flesh began to bubble and burn.

  
  


Scowling, I kicked her in the face, slamming her back into oven. Two more swift kicks had the cover back in place and bent to be difficult to open (especially with melting hands). My smirk returned as I heard her futility banging on the door; my natural inclination was to start humming a fitting tune of merry malevolence, but I figured making excess noise was not a good idea when trying to kidnap an entire village (getting all of them would be significantly more difficult when they start running and screaming (mostly the running part)).

  
  


(Un)Fortunately  the rest of the village was nowhere near as interesting as the first family; most of them weren’t even awake and those that were had no situational awareness and never saw me coming (even the serial killer was boring; all he had was a basement full of vivisected children). By the time the sun rose I was boisterously singing as I strolled out of the now empty town, ignoring the spreading flames (apparently leaving the stove on is rather dangerous) slowly consuming the village. Hopefully the fire would hide any evidence of my involvement (though I doubt anyone would even be aware I was active to connect me to this); I don’t exactly want to get hunted twenty-four-seven by Hunter-nin (yet; it’s not like I can really avoid it in the long run).

  
  


It wasn’t until I was halfway back to the “clothes” store that Jashin spoke up;  **_“The woman has broken. Her lord is a man by the name of Brion Relks who claims to be a god. He is using his knowledge of chakra to convince an isolated community of his divinity, using jutsu to validate it. While she didn’t know how he was doing it, it seems he has some method of making people trust and like him.”_ **

  
  


I raised an eyebrow, “Brion Relks? Odd name for this land; doesn’t even sound vaguely Japanese…” My eyes widen as the latter half of her words hit me, “Wait, he has some sort of mind control technique?” A familiar grin spreads across my face, “I can think of  _ so many delicious uses  _ for a technique like that.” Slave harem, here I come!

  
  


I could hear the smirk in her voice,  **_“Indeed. He and his cult lay thirty miles to the north and east. I do not like this false god belittling my symbol; his continued existence is an insult. End him.”_ **

  
  


A dark smirk spread across my face, “Oh, I will. I’ll kill his whole damn congregation; for your honor and my ambition, none can be allowed to live.” Cruel humor dripped like oil from my smile as I turned in the indicated direction, dark chuckles following me. Looks like the doctor will just have to wait, hmm?

  
  


0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

  
  


The front line barely had time to scream before the lunatic was upon them, his pilfered blade piercing a rookie officer’s throat. The boy’s scream turned to a gurgling wail as the mad man moved on. His hand was a blur, slashing throats and tendons, carving up veins and arteries; always aiming to maximise suffering and blood loss. With no bullets in their guns and no time to reload, over a dozen fell to the over large scalpel-like blade in moments.

  
  


Those closest to the carnage started drawing their own knives and nightsticks, futilely attempting to combat the degenerate in close combat while those more distant from the fighting reloaded. Unfortunately for those standing within reach of the living blender the man had become, those who did have the wherewithal to reload were unwilling to fire for fear of hitting their comrades… at least at first. 

  
  


Ten, perhaps twenty, men were cut to bloody chunks before those who had reloaded began to fire; uncaring for the friends and allies they gunned down in their desperate (and otiose) attempt to stave off the grisly end that was fast approaching. Of the hundreds of rounds sent at the laughing psychopath, most missed horribly and only added to the carnage by killing other cops; what few hit the loon inflicted grevious wounds... that did absolutely nothing to even slow him down. 

  
  


The captain and his assistant hunkered down behind their car, staring in mute shock as one man butchered the entire precinct. Within twenty minutes a force over a hundred strong was reduced to so much slime; looking more like chunky salsa than a police force.

  
  


Admittedly, their attacker looked like nothing less than a humanoid pile of hamburger meat; but he was still standing nonetheless, his horrid wounds visibly healing before the sickened eyes of the only survivors.

  
  


The captain slowly raised his gun, before pausing as his secretary physically stopped him. He turned his head to look at him with eyes too stunned to hold a question. The reedy man was holding out the captain’s phone, the number for his military contact already pulled up. He was only ever meant to use that contact in an extreme emergency; but if this doesn’t count as an emergency, he doesn’t know what does.

  
  


He took the phone with shaking hands, pressing the call button with fingers so coated in sweat and rain it looked like he had been swimming. A few moments passed as the phone rang and the two men grew more and more afraid that no one would answer… then the screen changed with a click. “Oi, the fuck you want?” A gruff voice questioned irritably.

  
  


The captain ran a hand through his sandy blonde hair (where had his cap gone?), “Th-this is Captain Fredick Nitche, identification number, 32987.” He hated the way his voice shook, the weakness the warbling impied. “W-we have a serious emergency; the entire precinct has been wiped out by a knife wielding lunat- Gurk!” His words were cut off when a pale hand grasped his hair, pulling him over the hood of the car.

  
  


A demented laugh once more tore the air as a chipped combat knife (apparently he lost his amputation knife in the melee) plunged into the captain’s groin. The phone fell from his grasp as the lunatic in question dragged the blade upwards, exposing the officer’s innards to the the unceasing rainfall.


	4. Shepherd of Fire

**Shepherd Of Fire**

  
  


Thirty miles is quite distance to cross on foot… if you’re not a ninja. Traveling at my top speed it took me barely three minutes to reach the hidden hovels inhabited by my unknowing foe. 

  
  


I slowed down a couple miles outside the compound (and it was a compound, nothing that military in design could be called a town, even as crude as it was) on Jashin’s advice. Apparently this “Brion” was more intelligent than I gave him credit for; in the dense forest surrounding the compound five man squads roamed about in a vaguely organised manner.

  
  


Unfortunately for them, they were hardly ninjas. While that’s not too useful considering I didn't really have any training; what little I had been able to glean from letting by body run on autopilot was enough to sneak up on some unsuspecting guards.

  
  


I barely kept from laughing as I landed near silently in a tree just above one of the squads; none of these fools even bothered to look up, so certain in the protection of their anonymity. The last of their little group walked backwards, acting the rear-guard.

  
  


Now, my plan  _ was _ to lower my scythe down, hook it under his chin, and pull it up; cutting of his face and either killing him instantly or at least very soon. Regardless, it would have been scary for his buddies. Instead, the dumb fuck tripped and decapitated himself on my blade just before I got it in position.

  
  


Which, of course, made me burst out laughing.

  
  


Which gave away my position (the truncated scream and headless body gave away my presence well enough on their own). Fortunately, incompetence won out and it took them a few shocked seconds to react. A few shocked seconds was more than enough for me to leap down and cleave two of the morons in twain with my blade (not the easiest thing to do with a scythe, let me tell ya).

  
  


Interestingly, I felt something in me shift as life left the men in a gushing river of gore; Jashin’s presence in my mind became a touch more solid, a little more real. The most obvious change I could see was my sight and senses; everything seemed sharper, more crisp and clear than I ever remembered the world being. 

  
  


The second thing I noticed was the way I subconsciously moved, the way I held my blade; my movements were more refined, smooth and efficient in a manner neither I nor Hidan ever possessed. Even to my own eyes my movements were odd and off putting; machine-like and predatory.

  
  


When I looked upon the terrified survivors of my initial assault I could see right through their shaky stances, knew exactly how to swing my blade to inflict maximum suffering and damage. It wasn't like the Sharingan, there was nothing predictive or slow motion about it; I just instinctively knew how to break them.

  
  


Evidently the massive smile I used to cover my uncertainty was quite terrifying, if the wet stain spreading across the crotch of one of the men's pants was anything to go by.  _ “Jashin, what the hell is happening to me!?”  _ I cried in my head, while the changes were useful, the fact that I had been modified at all was more than a touch unsettling.

  
  


**_“Fear not, my champion. This is merely a side effect of us growing closer. Your soul grows closer to my core as our relationship gets closer; this can be achieved through both spending time to get closer and by gifting me with sacrifices. Using the souls of those you sacrifice, I modify your soul to better adapt to my increased presence; this has a number of beneficial side effects.”_ **

  
  


I blinked, watching the cowering militants slowly attempt to rally for an attack.  _ “How can sacrifices increase our closeness? Wouldn't we have to get to know and like each other or some shit to become closer?”  _ Honestly, murder as a substitute for intimacy?

  
  


**_“Truthfully, they can't. Not on their own, anyway. Both actual mutual affection and copious amounts of murder are necessary to truly grow closer; however, in these early stages we are already close enough for sacrifices alone to be all that's required for the the adaptations to occur. Later stages will require, as you put it, “_ ** **Getting to know and like each other or some shit.”** **_to attain_ ** **.”** Her voice held a trace of humor as she mimicked my voice.

  
  


I smirk, dashing forward and crushing one of the men's throats with the front of my scythe blades (still need to find a way to sharpen that)  before swiping to the left and driving the longest blade through the side of the last “soldier’s" head.  _ “Well then, when I'm done making an example of this town (I'm thinking impalement?) we’ll have a sit down and talk some. Ya got anything you'd particularly like me to do?”  _ While I absolutely hated the idea of being anyone's servant, a healthy relationship involves give and take and I'm willing to do favours for those I care about. While I can't say I truly care for Jashin all that much as of now, I can see no benefit to deliberately trying to distance myself from my patron god… even if my hatred of authority figures give me a disdain for gods in general.

  
  


**_“For now, just ensure the false prophet suffers; though later I want to learn more about you.”_ **

  
  


I shrugged, moving to search the bodies for any loot I could find. Finding nothing of interest, I stood up with a scowl. I turned my eyes towards the projected paths of the other three patrols (though, considering the screams these idiots managed to let out, it’s quite possible I won’t need to go hunting for them at all),  _ “Really, just torture the dumb cunt? Do you have any goals I could help facilitate?” _

  
  
  


A dark chuckle sounded in my mind and I could have sworn the shadows around me deepened, though on second glance it seems it was just the other patrols seeking out the screams. Heh, like incredibly retarded moths to a pile of burning moths.

  
  
  


**_“Hmhmhmhmhm…. Merely spread chaos, fear, death, and pain to the world. That is what I want… for now.”_ **

  
  


I shrugged, “Chaos, eh?” I turned my glittering eyes to the infidels, “Sounds fun.” My smile matched my scythe as the cultists surrounded me in a loose but visibly disciplined circle. My smile grew to a malicious grin beneath eyes half-lidded with sadistic anticipation as they drew ramshackle blades. Not a one seemed to match the others; had they not been wearing what looked vaguely like uniforms, I would have sworn they were nothing but bandits.

  
  


My disparaging opinion didn't improve when they gave a ragged battle cry and charged me en masse; completely abandoning any sort of organisation. My scythe lashed out as the fastest amongst them got within comfortable reach, sending three decapitated bodies to fall at my feet.

  
  


A blade slid through my left cheek and out the right, grinding against my teeth as it passed. I smiled, the motion widening the tears in my face as I licked the blade in my mouth, turning my eyes to look at the militia man who stabbed me.

  
  


The man stuttered out an incomprehensible stream of words (likely an insult or cry of fear)  and tried to pull his blade free. Key word,  _ tried. _ As soon as I felt the blade moving back I bit down as hard as I could, my chakra enhanced and Jashin given strength shattering the rusty iron with ease; leaving the man with a jagged foot of metal rather than three feet of what might have generously been called a sword.

  
  


He stared at the hunk of metal for a moment before I spat the chunks of metal in my mouth into his face; the chakra enhanced projectiles acting like a shotgun blast and turning his head into chunky salsa (and mangling my lips in the process).

  
  


A sharp jerk of my neck sent the piece of blade still lodged in my cheek flying through the air to pierce another man's eye, sending him falling to the earth with a cry of pain and splurt of blood. I smirked at the remaining squad, walking towards the screaming soldier.

  
  


I made sure to look each man in the eye as I stood above the screamer, setting the sole of my boot atop the spike of metal in his eye. My smirk widened as I slowly drove the spike home, twisting my heel (and subsequently the blade) to inflict greater suffering. Spasms rocked his body as the twisting blade was driven deeper and deeper into his brain, destroying more and more of what made him him (although, with my knowledge that souls exist, that may not be entirely true).

  
  


When I felt the blade pierce the earth beneath the writhing man's skull I stopped pushing down, lifting my foot into the air with a joyous laugh. I brought my foot down with a wicked cackle, taking great pleasure in the way the man's skull exploded beneath my foot like an overripe watermelon in front of an artillery battery (though, I appreciated the blood and brain matter splattered all over my pants and boots far, far less). 

  
  


My maniacal smile grew as my glittering eyes landed on the survivors; seeing my own gleefully malevolent expression reflected in their terrified orbs. My eyes were almost friendly, filled with a warm light that looked like it could draw people in, but placed above my smile, the light in my eyes could never be mistaken for anything but sadism; the warmth just a little  _ too  _ hot, gaze just a little  _ too  _ intense. 

  
  


Meh, being able to look like a nice guy can be useful, I guess; it’ll make infiltration (and indoctrination) easier, if nothing else.

  
  


I watched, amused, as the cultists backed away in a panic, most looking like they were a half-step from breaking into an outright sprint (so much for discipline, eh?). I took a sudden step forward, just to see what would happen, and was rewarded with one of them actually throwing down his sword and sprinting away… straight into a tree.

  
  


I burst out laughing, leaning so far back to cackle to the heavens that I almost fell on my ass. My perfectly sane (completely psycho-bonkers-crazy) cachinations seemed to deeply unsettle the still conscious (seriously, the dipshit knocked himself out? Bwahahaha!) thugs, if the faint odor of shit seeming to waft off one of them was anything to go by. 

  
  


Now, I  _ could _ have just swiftly rendered them down to tiny, leaking pieces and moved on. That would be the smart, efficient thing to do. But I knew myself well enough to know I could never pass up an opportunity to torture some mice; besides, I was here to send a message, wasn’t I? Nothing quite like antemortem mutilation to send a pretty damn clear message.

  
  


Unfortunately, none of the remaining morons were women so my straight ass couldn't really rape them (I could try but hairy, unwashed men aren't gonna get me hard enough to have fun without spending the time to skin them and remove the annoying aspects (maybe I could nail one's ass to another's chest to simulate breasts… thoughts for the future)), nor do I have time to properly torture them; guess I'll have to settle for particularly messy deaths. 

  
  


Three blades sprouted out of the stomach of the only man to actually turn and watch his compatriot slam face first into a tree, his laughter turning to a gurgling scream in an instant (though I'm sure he appreciated my laughter replacing his own). I wrenched my scythe to the side, nearly bisecting the man and spilling his innards on the forest floor as the blades were torn free.

  
  


My grin glowed in the moonlight as I moved, slashing my blade (still trailing intestines) into the side of one of the men, piercing both lungs and severing his spine. He would die a slow, miserable death; unable to so much as crawl as his mutilated lungs filled with blood. 

  
  


The last conscious man stumbled back, falling on his ass and still attempting to crawl away as I pulled my blade from his fellow’s chest, letting him drop to the earth like a stringless marionette. I walked over the fallen man, deliberately stepping on him to show my disregard for him as I slowly advanced on the weeping soldier, my blade drawn back and over my head like the reaper come to claim his soul (not far from the truth really, considering I am going to take his soul). 

  
  


He kept crawling backwards until his back met a tree, the sudden contact having him instinctively look back to see what he hit. That was his last mistake. My scythe sliced through the air as easily as it did his guts, slitting open his stomach and letting his innards fall out. He didn’t even get to scream before I slammed my scythe down on lower abdomen; the upper blade went through his already mutilated guts while the middle sliced his cock in half. 

  
  


His girlish scream of unfathomable agony was sweet music to my ears as I slowly pushed my scythe forward, my pure strength driving the blunt end through his intestines and out his back (pushing him away from the tree). 

  
  


I pulled free my trusty scythe, trailing the cultist’s intestines as I turned towards the compound. My dark grin widened as I turned my gaze to the unconscious survivor.

  
  


0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

  
  


Brion sat as his desk, fingers clenched to a white knuckle grip on the random document he pensively stared at with unfocused eyes.  He had heard the screams… and the laughter; someone had butchered his external patrols. Odds were, that same someone was about to come and butcher his town, destroy everything he had worked for for so long.

  
  


His hands balled into fists, crinkling the (likely very important) paper into a ball. How, how had it come to this? How had this happened? All his plans, all his actions, all his  _ sacrifices _ ; all meaningless…

  
  


Something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. He turned, staring out the window in his office facing out to the whole of his compound (his guards had hated  _ that _ little addition to the plans). It took him a second to see what caught his eye, something was falling from the sky towards the center of the compound. Disbelief danced with horror as he watched a body fall from the moonlit sky.

  
  


It hit the ground with a splat, sending blood and blood-stained paper flying about it; in fact, it hit the ground so hard that broken bits of cobblestone flew up around it. A long moment passed in silence, a pool of blood spreading around the unfortunate man. People slowly trickled out from where they had run to; coming to see what had happened, to gawk at the disturbance to their daily routine. Even he released a relieved breath when nothing further happened… until lights poured from the body’s innards, shining out of its every orifice (and the numerous gaping wounds across it); illuminating the numerous paper seals within and without.

  
  


The explosion tore up the square, knocking down or severely damaging several buildings and reducing the crowd of maybe fifteen people around it to so much jelly. His eyes could not widen further as he stared upon the blood streaked ruins of all he had done.

  
  


Or, at least, that's what he thought. The visual orbs nearly fell from his head when the compound’s gate exploded inward, blasting off its armoured hinges like a domino struck by a god; reducing the guards stationed there to paste.

  
  


There was no smoke to clear and the man (monster) who blasted down the gate was immediately visible. Amaranthine eyes gleamed with cruel amusement as the pale man lowered his overstretched hand.  High pitched and malevolent laughter rolled from the man; the wicked sound creeping into the town, slithering into the survivors minds and settling over the wreckage like a heavy, vile miasma of malignity.

  
  


Brion’s pale green eyes widened in horrified realization as he saw just who was standing at his gates; Hidan the Immortal had come to reap what he had not sown.

  
  


Shaking hands ran through thinning blonde hair; how had he not thought of this, how could he have ignored the possibility. He had never thought that the fanatic might sniff out his operations, might see his heretical use if the man's symbol and come seeking vengeance. Even if the man had simply stumbled upon his village by pure coincidence; he was the only S-rank ninja  _ known _ for committing random acts of senseless violence. 

  
  


Brion tried to ignore the sweat dripping down his skin as the laughing psychopath walked into his village; choosing instead to press a single button on his desk.

  
  


There was a brief burst of static before a voice came through,  _ [Sir?]  _ The voice was gruff and serious, a soldier who had dedicated their life to the art of murder.

  
  


Brion took a deep breath before responding, “An intruder, an  _ infidel _ , has infiltrated the compound.”

  
  


He could  _ feel _ the contempt pouring from the voice.  _ [So those incompetent fools guarding the forest were eliminated?] _

  
  


“It would appear so, yes.” He chanced a look out the window, seeing the serial killer entering a house; from the screams that emanated from it soon after he presumed the little family of regulation four was not having a good time. He wondered idly if any of the forty eight civilians that called his compound home would live to see the morrow. He shook his head,  _ probably not.  _ “Your standing orders still apply; repel or eliminate the intruder…” Blood splattered the upstairs window of the house the madman entered, “...by any means necessary.”

  
  


There was no hesitation in his most devout soldier’s voice,  _ [Yes, Sir.]  _ A glance out the window showed his elite guards rushing out of his mansion to confront the maniac butchering his people. 

  
  


Brion gave a deep sigh, watching his men clash with the immortal for a moment before standing up. A miserable chuckle left him as he walked into the shadows behind his desk.

  
  


0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0p0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

  
  


My eyes gleamed as I watched the clearly more competent (though no more intelligent) cultists stream out of the largest building like ants from their nest. I laughed as they surrounded me, the cachinations growing all the louder and more gleeful when I saw how few were visibly unsettled by the insidious sound.

  
  


My shining eyes followed the men as they encircled me. I didn't show it, but I was genuinely surprised they hadn't simply rushed me. My cacophonous laughter quieted to simple chuckles as a single man broke the wall of soldiers, his long black trench coat flowing behind him. 

  
  


I raised an eyebrow, pointedly looking him up and down. “You got somethin’ to say, Reinhard?” Seriously, dude was a dead ringer for the architect of the Final Solution (at least in the face, he was dressed more like a caricature of an evil SS officer; the only difference was instead of swastikas, this guy wore symbols of Jashin… I'm totally stealing that costume.)

  
  


His grim expression was unchanging, “I have no idea who this “Reinhard" is, but I am certainly not he. My name is-"

  
  


I held up a hand, index finger extended. “I'mma stop ya there; I don't give a fuck who ya are.” I leaned back, holding my hands up and at my sides in a cocky gesture, “See, at the end of the day, I came here to kill everyone; and that's just what I'm gonna do.” My eyes, closed to emphasize my shrug like gesture, snapped open, locking with the apparently leader of this lot. I knew I was losing out on profits by not enslaving anyone in this town, but I honestly don’t care; money is just a garnish on my entertainment, not the true goal. Here, I came to make a statement and have some fun. Besides, if I  _ really _ needs something I can’t afford (or don’t want to have a record of owning), I’ll just steal it.

  
  


His steel blue eyes were hard and cold like an arctic storm. “Hmph, impetuous imbecile; you will receive no burial.” Apparently his words were the signal for his men to attack me from all sides. Unlike the rabble I had slaughtered outside the compound earlier these men were competent and organised; they knew exactly how to commit to a mass charge at a superior opponent and not a one of them seemed hesitant to risk or even lose their lives if it brought me down.

  
  


Now, while I like to think of myself as quite the badass, when thirty well trained men with swords rush you from all sides; dodging isn't really feasible. I tried, of course, swinging my scythe around me and jumping into the air; while I managed to kill three of the bastards with my swing, the jump only meant I was impaled on well over a dozen blades from below when I came back to the earth.

  
  


I stared at the pillars of steel piercing my flesh for a moment before they were torn to the sides, rupturing my perforated body and splashing my innards all around. Luckily for me, my innards are more decorative than anything (and Jashin’s influence meant that only ten percent of the mind shattering agony actually came through as such, the rest was either just gone or turned to pleasure);  _ un _ fortunately, I still wasn’t capable of much in the way of movement with my body damn near quartered. Standing up would be nigh impossible considering my spine was torn to pieces; while I may be able to get to my feet, my upper body would not be able to remain upright and I’d end up dragging most of my body around.

  
  


My initial plan was just to lay on the ground and pretend to be dead until I was healed; that plan went out the window when the assholes all around me started covering me in alcohol soaked rags. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why a military group would be covering a downed foe in a flammable substance; whether they knew I was immortal or not was irrelevant if they intended to burn my body.

  
  


Luckily for me, my abysmal chakra control still allowed for one “technique”: my bastard form of the explosion release/super strength. Channeling my chakra into the rags covering my body and the ground beneath me caused a rather violent explosion; made all the more destructive when the highly flammable scraps of cloth met the torches they had intended to burn me with.

  
  


Normally I would be laughing my ass off at a crowd of burning morons running around and screaming like headless, flaming chickens. Unfortunately, I forgot to take into account how this would affect  _ me;  _ spoilers, I got turned into fucking jelly.

  
  


And, of course, I was also on fire. Lovely.

  
  


_ “Well fuck, how the hell am I gonna get outta this?”  _ Somehow, even though I didn't have anything resembling eyes at this point, I was still frantically looking around. It took me a moment to realise I was staring down at my own mangled body as it slowly turned to ash.

  
  


**_“While you_ ** **could** **_simply wait for me to build you a new body from scratch or rebuild your old one; it would be more efficient to simply take advantage of the empty bodies laying around.”_ **  My metaphysical eyes widened dramatically, looking about me and truly seeing for the first time. The living seemed to possess an internal glow, a radiant life to them that was absent in the dead; what I could only assume was a soul calling out for me to devour.

  
  


I shook off the sudden rush of rampant bloodlust, and started looking for a (mostly) intact corpse to posses. While I'm a rather sceptical guy by nature, I was inclined to believe Jashin when it came to abilities I possessed.  _ “How exactly do I take over a corpse?” _ My eyes settle on the most intact body I could see, a short man who was apparently sent flying by the explosion and broke his neck on impact; while the damage was easily fixed, the drop in height was less than ideal.

  
  


**_“Merely enter the body, I will do the rest for now.”_ ** A moment passed as I walked over to the empty body before Jashin spoke back up, humor evident in her voice.  **_“You needn't worry about the meatbag’s features, the blueprint of your soul will overwrite the empty flesh.”_ **

  
  


Kneeling over the corpse I shrugged and stuck my hand in his chest. It felt like dipping my hand into cold oil; cloying and wet in an unsettlingly disturbing way. The unpleasant sensation was quickly shoved to the back of my mind when I felt myself being sucked into the body.

  
  


My first instinct was to fight the pull, but I knew what it was (or, at least I hoped so) and just let it happen. A moment later I was vindicated as my new bodies senses flooded my mind and my spiritual senses fled. 

  
  


I slowly sat up, feeling my neck crack back into place. As I shakily rose to my feet I could  _ feel  _ myself growing taller (and boy did  _ that _ not help my balance), a quick glance from eyes I could feel shifting confirmed that my skin tone was growing more and more pale, and the short brown hair I could see in the corner of my eye slowly bleached and slid into the same permanently slicked back “style” (seriously, it just fucking grows that way!) it always had.

  
  


Luckily, before my changes had finished I had managed to stumble over to the puddle if burning goo that was my former body. I examined myself, grimacing at my utterly ruined clothes (what few scraps weren't reduced to ashes were more blood than cloth). However, a grin spread across my face as my eyes settled on my scythe; my  _ wholly undamaged _ scythe.

  
  


I have no idea what the damn thing is made out of, but it seems like it’s damn near indestructible; at first glance the crimson blades might have looked burned and the handle damaged, but a cursory wip of the hand revealed that it was merely covered in blood and ashes, the magnificent weapon beneath utterly unscathed.

  
  


I smiled, hearing the random background mutters of the soldiers milling about around me start to become more excited as I picked up the blade, strapping the spool of wire to my waist (all my other shit was ruined, damn it! Guess I’ll have to steal replacements from these idiots.). A dark grin spread across my face as I gave my scythe a whirl, only growing wider when someone placed a hand on my shoulder.

  
  


“Soratsu, the hell do you think your-” He didn’t get the chance to finish chastising whoever he thought I was. In a blur of movement I had whirled around, driving my palm into his chest and channeling an absurd amount of chakra into my palm. I grinned as his innards blasted out his back, most of his body having been essentially turned inside out by the devastating failure of the surface cling. Once more my sinister laughter rang out as intestines rained down on my enemies heads.

  
  
  


0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

  
  
  


The assistant stared in horror as his boss’s scream was cut off with a gurgle, rainwater filling his chest cavity like the bleakest of bowls. The shredded maniac’s laughter sunk into his bones like a virus, shaking him to his very core as the man’s cruel green eyes slowly settled on his own.

  
  


The phone’s cracked screen still displayed an ongoing call, a fact that was only exemplified by the faint voice he could here from it. “Confirm location, I repeat; confirm location!” The voice was growing angry, a note of confusion and concern barely noticeable to the assistant’s untrained ears.

  
  


In a move he never would have thought himself capable of before, the assistant  darted forward, snatching up the fallen cellphone and sprinting for some sort of cover. He pulled the damaged phone to his ear, shouting into the speaker to be heard over his heartbeat thundering in his ears. “We are at county hospital on the corner of- Gahh!” 

  
  


He was cut off mid sentence, a sharp pain in his back followed by horrible numbness from below it interrupting his speech. His legs gave out beneath him and he tumbled to the asphalt below; the impact sending bolts of pain through his upper body, but horrifyingly, he felt nothing below where he had felt the sharp pain.

  
  


The cell phone clattered away, a little river of blood and water slowly ferrying it away from his desperately grasping hands. He couldn’t move his legs, couldn’t move anything below his middle back, but even so he desperately dragged himself towards the damaged phone; he needed to confirm the location, needed to get reinforcements here.

  
  


He could hear the laughing psychopath getting closer, walking at a deliberately slow pace; seeking to draw out his suffering no doubt. Nonetheless, he dragged himself forward with broken nails and bloody fingers.

  
  


He was inches from grabbing the phone (having managed to crawl ever so slightly faster than the water could carry the phone) when a heavy weight settled on his shoulders, putting an abrupt end to his journey. Tear filled eyes watched as the water carried the phone ever closer to a storm drain.

  
  


The weight on his back grew more and more intense as he struggled to draw breath with strained lungs. In one last desperate gamble he roared out the location of the attack, praying to whatever gods were listening for the soldier on the other side of the phone to hear him.

  
  


Unfortunately for him, the only god of note paying any attention was Jashin, and she wasn’t feeling very charitable right then. As the last syllable left the desperate man’s throat, the knife the possessing serial mass murder had throw with such pinpoint precision as to neatly sever the fleeing man’s spine was pulled from his back with a nasty twist. The last thing the man saw before his eyes were gouged from his skull was the phone going over the lip of the drain, its screen very clearly dead.

  
  


Hidan took his time with the runner, slowly sawing at his skin with an almost surgical precision born of long experience; flaying away the man’s skin in one piece. Skinning a man alive was more of an art than a science, though it was certainly easier when they couldn’t move. Blood flowed like a river as more and more flesh was cut away from the muscle below it, agonised screams following it into the distance.

  
  
Hidan wasn’t worried about someone hearing the music of misery; he wanted them to hear, to see his art in action. Jashin was pleased, he could  _ feel _ it; and that was all that matter to him. He may not have been a good champion, but he  _ was _ a damn good killer.


	5. Heretic Blood

**Heretic Blood**

  
  


Perhaps drawing the survivors attention was not the best idea; I was stuck in clothes that were a couple sizes too small, had only my scythe and whatever this body was carrying, and was out numbered eighteen to one after all. However, I had little choice; even with as rattled as they were by my explosive “death" there were still enough of them with enough eyes in their head and blood in their veins to notice that the supposed corpse was standing in their midst.

  
  


With a maniacal grin I dashed through the rain of near-liquid cultist, dashing towards the ragged survivors with my scythe held out behind me. They recovered quickly from their shock, just not quick enough to stop me from decapitating the closest man to me. Before his head could hit the ground I delivered a swift kick at  _ just _ the right angle to send the decollated head straight into a (now one armed) soldier’s face (huh, Gaze Of The Destroyer (what I’m calling my Jashin granted knowledge of how to destroy anything I saw)  is really handy). 

  
  


While the man had instincts good enough to raise his blade before the severed head could hit him, the blood and brain matter that splashed out when he cut through the head still resulted in him being blinded. His blindness may have lasted only a moment, but a moment was more than enough time to dart forward and drive my hand through his chest. I grinned into his stunned eyes as I wrapped my fingers one by one around his still beating heart, slowly tightening my grip for a moment before a kunai to the back of the head reminded me of where I was.

  
  


With a quick squeeze I crushed the man’s heart; using my grasp on his innards to whirl him into a hail of throwing knives and shuriken. The meatbag did an adequate job of blocking the steel rain, allowing me to charge unhindered into the now collected group of soldiers.

  
  


I threw the blade ridden corpse into the small crowd, leaping into the air to slam down on it when it plowed into the front row. My weight alone may not have been enough to kill or incapacitate the fanatics (even augmented with what had to be a couple hundred pounds of meat and weapons); however, the swift kick I delivered on impact did quite a bit more (though that may have been the chakra blast I sent into it). The corpse exploded into even more red rain while the weapons were sent forth like bullets from a many barreled gun; many of the implements of sharp and pointy death managed to pierce straight through the first cultist they hit and go on to embed themselves in someone else.

  
  


My grin widened as my near-glowing purple eyes danced around; searching for targets and threats. None of the enemy soldiers were unscathed (many possessing wounds that would likely kill them in a matter of moments… save for one. My amaranthine eyes locked with the icy blue of the commander; manic malevolence meeting cold determination.

  
  


My smile grew so wide I could feel the muscles in my face straining not to tear in the face of his unflinching resolve; I relished in the thought of breaking him, of hearing him scream and cry and beg for mercy, beg for a quick death I will never grant. 

  
  


I rushed him, slicing through his demoralized subordinates like a hot knife through melted butter (killing at least four of the ten remaining combatants (though, of those remaining, only five could still stand, and only three of them had both arms)) before I reached him.

  
  


I slashed my blade, aiming to take his head off and crush the morale of the remaining forces. I laughed as he leaned backwards, allowing my blade to pass harmlessly over his head. His expression never changed, remaining hard and blank as the deadly blades nearly scraped his nose.

  
  


He moved so fast I barely even saw it; one moment his hands were by his side, his sword sheathed, the next my head was rolling off my shoulders, my manic grin still stretched across it. As my perspective spun end over end I got a glimpse of what had happened; he had drawn and swung his blade with such speed I hadn’t even seen it.

  
  


My smile twisted into a scowl as I abandoned my head, jumping into my body (apparently, just like the original Hidan, my soul would stay with my head rather than my body when the two were seperated; wonder if there’s any way to change that) as it sank to its knees. The commander flicked my blood from his blade, moving to sheath it. 

  
  


The commander’s blade was almost wholly sheathed when my body jerked, suddenly jumping up with my blade held upside down (top facing the ground). Evidently the commander was unsurprised, leaping away in time to avoid the blow entirely; the breeze of my passing ruffling his jacket ever so slightly as my massive blades once more passed him by with millimeters to spare.

 

Without actually having eyes, my vision defaulted to my spiritual vision; my phantasmal gaze could see the captains soul burning brightly. A bright grin formed on my metaphysical face, the smile slowly forming on my real flesh as my head slowly reformed. My laughter turned from an echoey, half-real thing to something more solid and true as my throat formed enough to actually produce the sound. 

  
  


A brave (stupid) cultist rushed me from the left, blade raised over his head with shaking arms and a warcry on his lips, My hand shot out, grabbing him by his face and cutting off his scream. My laughter only grew (sounding like a drunken hyena) as I squeezed his skull enough to crack but not shatter it (causing extreme agony, but not death) before flinging the man at the commander… who didn’t even blink, cutting his subordinate in half with enough force that the two halves didn’t hit him; not even a drop of blood soiled his ever immaculate uniform.

  
  


I didn’t wait for the body to hit the ground, using the obfuscating cloud of blood to rush my foe just as I had his subordinate before him. I was unsurprised when a blade of wind shot through the raining blood, aiming to cleave me in two. I leapt forth, vaulting over the sweeping wind blade; as soon as my hands touched the earth I sent my chakra into it, causing it to erupt with an explosion. I used the explosion to assist in backflipping forward, laughing maniacally as I held my scythe over my head.

  
  


Just as I had hoped the unexpected explosion had disturbed his footing, sending him stumbling back. My gleeful eyes locked with his, seeing just a hint of delicious panic in his ever cold orbs as I brought my scythe down to split him in two. Even falling on his ass the commander showed his competence, still managing to raise his blade to block my own in a solid guard (or, as solid as one can be while currently falling over backwards anyway); however, he had clearly never fought anyone with a blade like mine (not surprising, very few people ever wielded a scythe in combat, fewer still one quite like mine). His blade clanged against my middle blade, sliding down its length to meet the haft.

  
  


Had his arms been fully extended he still wouldn’t have escaped unscathed; being a little under six foot, his arms were also a little under three feet long. The longest blade of my scythe is just  _ over _ three feet; long enough to still hit him even if stopped at arm's length. As it was, the top most blade sunk into his forehead, sending a spurt of blood into the air.

  
  


To my shock, rather than simply die from the six inches (and counting!) of scythe embedded in his brain, the commander managed to push out my blade by extending his arms and allowing himself to fall on his back. For what should be a dead man, he had quite a bit of strength; enough to fling me away from him.

  
  


Reflected fire danced in my eyes as I watched the commander somersault backwards to his feet, only a slight wobble in his landing giving away the traumatic brain damage he’s surely dying from. Blood flowed down his face like a crimson river, finally despoiling his outfit.

  
  


Of course, said blood was also on my scythe, making the distance he had bought himself utterly irrelevant. My decapitation and self destruction had left me with more than enough blood for me to not bother cutting myself to create the ritual circle (though, dodging only slightly more clumsy wind blades did not make the ritual any easier).

  
  


Laughing joyously, I brought my blade to my lips, tongue extended to lick the blood from it. As soon as my blade touched my tongue the commander’s boot crashed into the back of my scythe; slamming it through the back of my jaw and flinging me from my symbol.

  
  


I blinked up at the sky, my reformed eyes whirling around in their sockets. My rapidly moving eyes eventually settled on what I could see of my body; even having been thrown several feet from the symbol of Jashin my ritual required, my skin was still blackening, bone like markings standing out in starkly contrasting white.

  
  


As I reached up to pull my scythe from my head (The utter indignity! That rat fuck commander will  _ suffer _ for this!) Jashin spoke up, sounding somewhat confused.  **_“Did you not notice? Twice in this battle you sacrificed enough souls to fuel your advancement; we are close enough to not need that symbol for such a basic ritual.”_ **

  
  


My eyes widened dramatically, “Crut? Ky Cron’t dreed kra kritukal kircle?” I scowled around the massive blade in my mouth, noting the difficulties inherent in trying to speak around more metal than can reasonably be expected to fit in one’s mouth.  _ “What? I don’t need the ritual circle?”  _ That changed things; with the simple reduction of one of its major weaknesses, the voodoo technique just became extraordinarily lethal (not that it wasn’t before).

  
  


**_“You still must drink your target’s blood, but after that there is nothing stopping you from activating the curse at anytime, on any or all who’s blood you’ve drank.”_ ** I smiled, the act widening the massive wound from my own scythe; I could work around that. Things would be a touch too easy if I didn't need  _ something  _ for such a powerful technique; even the Tsukiyomi requires eye contact after all.

  
  


I flipped myself up into a standing position, wrenching my scythe out of my jaw with one hand. I grinned, noting idly that I was healing much, much quicker than I used to; my head was already fully formed and it hadn't even been two minutes since I was decapitated.

  
  


**_“One of the many benefits you shall receive as things progress; normal healing is far too slow for_ ** **my** **_champion.”_ ** My smile grew, glee fueled both from Jashin’s words and the sight of the commander spitting up blood. My sharp eyes could easily make out the wounds inside his mouth and on his cheeks; apparently while the ritual doesn't transfer wounds from before it's completion, it  _ does _ transfer additions to pre-existing injuries. Presumably, if I were shot in the head and completed the ritual with the bullet halfway through, only the exit wound would transfer to the victim.

  
  


My eyes glowed with malevolent glee as the commander rushed me, apparently having decided that flinging wind blades wasn't working quick enough for his tastes. For a moment I considered letting him deal a fatal blow (delighting in the ironic beauty of someone killing themselves in a futile attempt to kill their foe); but I wanted him to  _ suffer _ for his impudence, for daring to think he could kill me. 

  
  


I grinned, dropping to one knee and slicing open my Achilles tendon with my scythe. My grin caught the moonlight, each tooth seeming to shine as the commander landed on his now useless leg.

  
  


My eyes widened above a gaping mouth as the commander turned a fall into a smooth roll, balancing himself on his one good leg. As he rose I could see the intense scrutiny in his cold eyes.

  
  


Apparently he had understood exactly what happened near instantly, for as one of his living minions rushed to help him he slashed open their throat with no hesitation. Allied blood still dripping from his blade he lunged at me, his single leg providing a shocking amount of power to let him cross the distance.

  
  


Normally I would have assumed he simply didn't understand what was going on, normally I would have laughed; instead I gurgled. The commander shoved his blade into my mouth, making sure some of his sacrificed underling’s blood was smeared across my tongue before forcing my head back and jamming his katana all the way into my intestines.

  
  


With a sharp twist and a pull he tore his blade out the front of my body, using his free hand to rip out my innards and scatter them across the burning field around us. I stared up at him, shocked to see my wound not appearing on him. My eyes drifted over to the minion he murdered to see my wound replicated on him.

  
  


Jashin growled in my head,  **_“Hmph, that shouldn't have worked. Only your inexperience with the technique allowed him to abuse it's mechanics; your connection to him is not severed, simply focus and reapply it. Once you have consumed their blood, they can never escape your grasp. Eventually you will be able to maintain several sympathetic bonds at once.”_ **

  
  


I smiled as the commander, still holding my guts in one hand (presumably in an attempt to keep me from healing) drew his blade back, arm across his chest so his blade was pointing behind him. 

  
  


The blade swung hard and fast, whipping through the air to carve my head from its shoulders… or it should have. Impossibly, the blade stopped dead just as it met my throat, barely drawing any blood before my regeneration healed me.

  
  


A bead of blood rolled down the commander’s neck as he locked eyes with me. He grunted, swinging me by my intestines and tossing me away from him (though, by the way his free hand moved to cradle his gut, he rather regretted that). My smirk didn't fade as I slammed into the last mook standing, sending us both rolling across the burning town square.

  
  


I sprang from my back to my hands and feet, reaching out to grab the groaning mook by the chin. My fingers curled over his jaw, digging into his skin and grabbing his jaw bone. With a sharp tug I tore free his lower jaw, ripping it from his screaming skull. The commander obviously didn't give the slightest of fucks, simply watching me like a wounded hawk as I drove the cultist’s jaw through his eyes and into his brain. 

  
  


I stood up (making sure the movement was awkward and unnatural looking), my massive smile like a crescent moon beneath my spotlight eyes. Laughter rolled off me like a malignant fog, leaching hope and life from the few survivors (though the commander seemed unshaken, other than the massive blood loss) as I stepped forward (crushing the jawless mook’s chest). A quick slash cut my other achilles tendon, finally driving the commander to his knees as I stood tall, my unnatural fortitude preventing such injuries from truly hindering me even for the brief moment they were present.

  
  


Even forced to his knees, the commander’s eyes showed not a hint of submission or fear; he was just as cold in the face of an unwinnable fight as he was when he had the upper hand. I could see resignation hidden within the cold resolve that shown like fire through ice in his eyes; he was determined to die fighting.

  
  


Something about his resolve gave me pause; rather than simply take his head or set him on fire, I stopped a few paces from his kneeling form. It took me a moment to place what I was feeling; respect. I respected his grit, his determination,  his iron will.

  
  


My smile turned from psychotic to merely wry, “How ‘bout we play a little game, you and I; a challenge.” I waved my hand, gesturing theatrically at a relatively intact burning building. “I’m going to offer you a chance to get out of this alive.” I could feel Jashin’s confusion and displeasure at that.

  
  


**_“What? Why would you not kill him?”_ **

  
  


My wry grin held a wicked edge,  _ “Partially, out of respect but mostly for amusement. I did say I would give him a  _ chance _ to get out alive, not that I would spare him. Besides, suffering, misery and despair are all the sweeter when garnished with a dash of futile hope.”  _ She still seemed confused, but her anger (more mild annoyance really) had faded.

  
  


I bent forward at the waist in an awkward faux-bow, pointing towards a burning building. “I’m going to skin you alive and toss you into that building.” I held up a finger, cutting off the retort I could see in his face, “ _ But,  _ I’m  _ not _ going to deal any fatal blows.” I leaned back into a fully upright position, my arms raised at my sides. “If you manage to crawl out you  _ might _ just make it out alive! Probably not, but it is possible; which is better odds than you have if you fight back.” I shrugged, “Like I said; a challenge.” 

  
  


His face remained unchanging, not a hint of any of his thoughts (other than the naked contempt blazing coolly from his eyes) evident in his features. I approached him, smirking all the while. I was unsurprised to find a sword plunging into my chest when I got within range.

  
  


Of course, I couldn’t allow him to take the easy way out. My reaction speed was nowhere near fast enough to actually stop him from stabbing me, but it  _ was _ good enough to jerk his blade down. Rather than spear me through the heart as he obviously intended, I diverted the blow into one of my ribs beneath the heart; his speed and power was more than enough to slice right through the bone, but the diversion was enough to send the blade into one of my lungs rather than my heart.

  
  


I smirked as a red stain spread across his chest; my enhanced hearing was easily able to make out his struggle to breath, though the blood dripping from his lips certainly helped. “Hmhmhmhm, so you would reject my challenge?” I waved my finger before his eyes, “Tsk, tsk. Did I somehow give you the impression it was optional?” My condescendingly waving hand moved to my chest, “If so, I do apologize.” My eyes flashed and my smile grew, my hand shooting forward to stab a finger into the deep wound in his forehead.  “I wouldn’t want to mislead you, after all. Heh heh heh heh heh.”

  
  


Disappointingly, he didn’t scream (even when I began fingering his brain), but I could see the buried pain in his eyes. I briefly considered literally skull fucking him before deciding against it; I wanted to skin him after all, it wouldn’t be good if I obliterated his brain before hand, now would it?

  
  


I slammed my scythe into the ground next to me (not so great for delicate things like filleting a man alive, that) and slid my other hand down the blade in my chest, wrapping my fingers around his and slowly peeling them away from the hilt.

  
  


Or at least, I tried. As soon as he realised what I was trying to do his fingers snapped back into place alongside his other hand. A look of steely determination crossed his face as he gave the blade a sharp twist and began sawing it across my chest. I attempted to stop him, but his blade cut through the fingers I put in its path; easily continuing on to slice through my spine and completely eviscerate my lungs.

  
  


I scowled around the blood flowing like a waterfall through my teeth as I saw the amount of blood pouring from his chest and mouth explosively increase as his back gave out. A growl burst from my bloodstained lips; how dare this plebeian deny me the pleasure of torturing him! I shot my hand forward, gripping his skull and squeezing hard enough to crack it before grabbing the deep gouge in his forehead with the other hand. With an inarticulate roar of rage I began tearing strips of flesh from his head, mutilating what part of him could still feel; no way am I gonna let him die by his own hand so peacefully!

  
  


I plunged my thumbs into his eyes ‘till they punctured his skull; my rage at his successful escape from my plans driving me to tear his head in half (though, it would be more accurate to say it was messily torn to pieces than truly ripped in half). I panted for a few seconds, letting my rage fade along with the signs of my ritual before tossing the pieces of the commander’s head away in disgust. I scowled down at his body, spitting on it and kicking it into a fire with a “hmph” of disdain.

  
  


I turned to the obvious command center, dismissing the wasted opportunity for amusement as it slowly turned to ash. I sheepishly scratched the back of my head, “Huh, maybe, just  _ maybe, _ setting the compound on fire wasn’t the best idea.” The building was burning merrily, pieces occasionally falling off like flaming, short lived meteors. Part of me wanted to just write the whole thing off and walk away, just say the fire killed everyone inside and destroyed anything of value; but my greed simply wouldn’t let me, nor would I ever be satisfied that I got everyone until I made sure (cult leaders have a nasty tendency of being slippery bastards). So, with a sigh of one who knows he’s about to suffer for a likely pointless cause, I ran into the burning building.

  
  


As I moved further through the building, dashing about as quickly as I could to try and salvage anything of value, I felt more and more like I needn’t have bothered. Most everything was too badly burned to be of much use (or have any value) and what files weren’t charred too badly to read were mostly useless and uninformative reports about things I don’t care about. Only when I reached what was clearly the leader’s office and noticed a very clear lack of charbroiled leader did I start thinking maybe checking the place out wasn’t a painful (running through fire fucking hurts, damn it! No matter how fucked up my nervous system is, fire still burns!) waste of time.

  
  


I scowled as a flaming I-beam dropped on top of the desk, reminding me that this building was far from stable (and setting whatever documents were on the desk on fire). I leapt forward, quickly rifling through the desk in search of valuables; finding mostly junk and financial statements (along with the occasional half-baked plan for world domination) until I accidentally tore one of the drawers straight out of the desk, revealing a hidden compartment behind it.

  
  


I eagerly reached into the compartment, groping around to try and find something (and ignoring the flaming debris burning through my ill fitting clothes and pale skin). I had to crack the desk to get my arm all the way into the hidden space (the shattered wood digging into my flesh irritatingly) but it was worth it when my long fingers brushed something that felt distinctly laminated. 

  
  


Pulling the object into the flickering, threatening light revealed it to be a thin, black binder. A grin spread across my face; considering Brion felt the need to hide this away, I can only assume it contains something he didn’t want people knowing about. Letting the binder fall open in my palm, my gleeful eyes hungrily tore into the first page on display… only to widen in shock at what I saw.

  
  


I began rapidly flipping through the pages, scanning each one in astonishment; each and every page was a detailed dossier on people throughout the Elemental Nations, so detailed they looked pulled straight from the wiki. Every character not only had their known information (alongside speculation) but also detailed plans to kill or incapacitate them. The files contained information he couldn’t possibly have gathered, including the full details of the Eye Of The Moon plan and its actual result. 

  
  


My smile twisted into something sinister as laughter began to bubble out from betwixt my teeth, “It seems I’m not the only one who comes from another world, eh? Heh heh heh heh hahahahahahahahahahahahaha!” I bent over backwards from the force of my laughter, cackles pouring down the burning halls of the cult leader’s mansion… until a conflagrant ceiling tile fell into mouth and down my throat, turning my laughter into a choking cough. Burning buildings are not the best place to have a good old fashioned evil laughing session.

  
  


Puking up the offending tile, I wiped my mouth and tucked the file into my jacket (fucking explosions, burning all my storage seals (lucky I wasn’t stupid enough to bring all my valuables with me in an attack with no intel or I’d be fucking furious)) before looking around the room. “Now… if I were a frightened fake cult leader from another world who sees a demented mass murderer coming for me, where would I be?” It wasn’t an all together difficult question; anywhere but here being the answer. The difficulty came from figuring out  _ how _ he would go about being anywhere but here.

  
  


**_“The wall behind you is not perfectly aligned with those around it.”_ ** I blinked, turning away from the door and facing the wall behind the desk. A smirk crossed my face; directly behind the burning wreckage that was once a desk, a small portion of the wall appeared to be at a slight inward angle. “Heh, looks like someone forgot to close the door behind him.” 

  
  


Humming softly, I pushed the hidden door open with the end of my scythe and peered into the blackness revealed within. I stared into the darkness for a moment, idly noticing that I could see clear through it like the room was bathed by the sun; another gift from Jashin, I presume.

  
  


The downward sloping walls were made of smooth stone, looking like it was formed from a jutsu rather than any conventional boring tool. Instinctively i closed my left eye to as I tried to see further down the hall, a now irrelevant habit from my past my superior body no longer needs. With a shake of my head I flicked open the binder, flipping through it until I found my dossier. I ran over my information with a finger until I found the plans to eliminate me, “Death in combat: impossible; can only be captured or incapacitated. Preliminary plan: bury alive, possibly via explosives. Triggered cave in?” I looked back down the probable escape tunnel. “Uh huh. Well fuck that.”

  
  


**_“It is a little_ ** **too** **_perfect to so easily find a escape tunnel; it very well could be a trap.”_ ** I mulled Jashin’s words over for a moment; it matched up with my thoughts exactly… except for one thing.

  
  


I tapped the binder, “For a guy who took such meticulous notes, it seems rather odd that he would leave this behind, even if he was in a rush…” I trailed off for a moment, “Perhaps a double bluff? While it's possible he simply expected this little binder,” I once more tapped said binder, “to burn up before I reached here; it's not  _ impossible _ that he left this here on purpose knowing I would read it and thusly not follow him into a scenario described almost exactly in said binder, thereby allowing him to escape… or perhaps it’s a triple bluff- No, I’m giving this guy too much credit here.”

  
  


I could feel Jashin’s amusement at my aborted paranoid rant ( _ It’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you!)  _ as I contemplated my choices, glancing about the room just incase I missed something. “Well, even if he brings the whole tunnel down on me, I can just ditch my body so it’s not that big a deal…” My gaze fell on my scythe, “Except I would have to waste hours and hours, possibly days, digging up my scythe.” I tapped the back of the blade on the toe of my horrible bloody sandals (Jashin damn it! Why does everyone in this god forsaken world wear this despicably useless footwear!) for a moment. “I suppose I’ll have to leave it behind just in case.”

  
  


I sighed deeply, parting from my primary weapon was not something I was eager to do, but spending innumerable hours digging the irreplaceable masterwork out of the earth should the blighter actually blow the tunnel was simply untenable. Glancing out a melting window, I pulled the coil from my back and held my scythe like a javelin. Taking careful aim, I fired the blade through the opening, watching with one hand on my forehead as if to shield from the sun as the massive blades flew through the air. I grinned cruelly and fist pumped as all three blades embedded themselves in a crawling cultist’s back, the spool coming down to crack open his skull and wrap the rest of the wire around the haft.

  
  


My brief amusement at killing a would be survivor faded quickly as I turned towards the yawning abyss of the supposed escape tunnel. With a long suffering sigh I started into the pit, fingering the hilt of a blade strapped to my stolen clothes waistband (my gait speeding up as the roof groaned ominously). “This is gonna suck, isn’t it?” 

  
  


My eyes gleamed as I answered my own question, “For him anyway.”


	6. Warped

**Warped**

  
  


The tunnel was obnoxiously long. I had been running at full tilt for well over ten minutes with no end in sight. Even with infinite stamina, ten solid minutes of running with nothing but blank walls to look at was extraordinarily tedious. Even Jashin had been oddly silent since I entered, only giving noncommittal grunts when I tried to start up a conversation.

  
  


**_“Enough of this nonsense. No lesser god may reign in_ ** **my presence!** **_”_ ** With a sudden angry roar I could here with my ears, her dark power settled over the world around me like a fog of malice and unending, caliginous weight pressing down on everything. Oddly, after a brief moment of feeling like I was falling in a vast abyss everything just suddenly felt right, as if I was just where I belonged, as if the power pressing down on me was also lifting me up.

  
  


While I was basking in what I had until recently subconsciously not considered a true deity’s presence, the tunnel around me suddenly snapped into a much shorter corridor like a stretched rubber band suddenly being released.

  
  


Only as the heavy presence faded did I notice a horrible feeling of utter wrongness in my right hand. I brought the offending limb to my face, eyes widening in shocked horror at what I saw. My hand had mutated into a horrific abomination, limbs it couldn’t have writhing with a will not my own. I slowly turned the writhing, vaguely hand-shaped mass around to see all of it, freezing when I fully rotated to see the back. An eye blinked up at me from the back of “my” hand; black sclera and red iris and pupil making the whole thing seem horribly demonic. I could feel the shark toothed jaw in the palm smiling as the eye locked on me.

  
  


Fear driven instinct had my stolen knife in hand in an instant, a single swing cleaving the mutated appendage from my personage. I stared in wide eyed horror as the demon-hand skittered about, flipping itself palm down before skittering up the wall on legs that were once fingers, the gaping wound where it once was attached to me erupting in tentacles coated in teeth and eyes.

  
  


I stared, jaw agape as the creature crawled swiftly down the tunnel. ‘Wha-what the fuck was that!” I turned my gaze to my already healing arm; looking back and forth between it and where the hand-demon skittered away. 

  
  


I could feel Jashin hesitating to respond,  **_“That… was the result of me channeling my power through you in to great an amount. While we have become attuned enough to not instantly warp you into a abomination of flesh, madness, and pain; you are still not fully ready for my full might. In this case, part of your body was warped by even this limited exposure; though a normal man would have been destroyed by even that much.”_ **

  
  


Well that’s… somehow both encouraging and  _ immensely _ disturbing. Encouraging in that I had survived what most wouldn’t and was growing more attuned to the power of a full blown deity, and disturbing because _ holy fuck I almost got turned into a warp spawn!  _

  
  


A soft voice very distinctly not coming from my head interrupted my minor panic attack, “Hidan the Immortal, I presume?”

  
  


I turned to look at the source of the voice, seeing a blonde, bespectacled man dressed in the kimono version of a suave suit (underneath which I could see hints of an actual suit; where he got one of those I have no idea) standing in a large room. He raised a thin eyebrow looking  at me like a noble staring at a peasant but I could see the ill concealed fear in those pale green eyes.

  
  


I smirked, flexing my new fingers as subtly as I could as the cosmetic details grew in, “Nah, I’m his cousin; Mike the Semi-mortal.”

  
  


He blinked, adjusting his glasses to cover his surprise, “Oh. Uh, my appologies-”

  
  


I face-palmed, dragging my hand down to give him the most deadpan look I could, “Are you fucking retarded?” I raised my hand to stop him as I saw him attempting to speak, “Don’t answer that; of course you are.”

  
  


An affronted look bubbled up on his face, his clenched jaw opened to put words to the accusing finger he pointed at me. Whatever indignant rant he intended to go on never even started as I reached out and grabbed his proffered limb; snapping his extended finger and breaking his wrist as I pulled him toward me.

  
  


My knife darted forward to liberate his guts from his flesh, intent on inflicting beautiful agony before I let him die. My eyes narrowed as he seemed to contort unnaturally to avoid the blow, his hand slipping out of mine as though it were made of oil. 

  
  


My eyes narrowed further; suddenly he was much farther away without having moved to gain said distance. It didn’t feel like a shunshin nor could I see any other signs of more genuine teleportation; it was as if there was just suddenly more space between us than there was before.

  
  


The smug bastard smiled at me, once more adjusting his glasses with the tip of his index finger. A more emotional man may have grit their teeth as he spoke up, condescension dripping from every word; I merely frowned. “Well, as entertaining as that little exchange was,  _ Mike _ ; I think It’s about time I put an end to this nonsense.” While his words spoke of absolute confidence, I could see his broken hand twitching as he tried to subtly move it out of sight.

  
  


He flicked his wrist, a long, thin blade that narrowed to a needle like point like a kunai that spent a few decades on the rack shot out of his baggy sleeve and into his left hand (whether this was out of preference or simply because I rendered the other hand useless, I don’t know). My frown deepened into a scowl before twisting into a false grin as I took a defensive stance; while I didn’t truly think this fool could kill me, his knowledge of at least my base level (original Hidan’s) abilities made me wary of any tricks. No one who knew of my immortality would recklessly charge me without a plan to deal with it.

  
  


He took what appeared to be a practice swing, swiping his thin blade through the empty air without so much as a single jutsu. I watched him closely, looking for any sign of what he planned to do. It didn’t help. One second he was in front of me, harmlessly swinging his blade through the air; the next he was right next to me, his “practice” swing slicing through my neck.

  
  


My eyelids become slits as I found my perspective falling away from my body for the second time today (I’m getting more than a touch sick of being decapitated). I ejected my soul from my falling skull, jumping back into my main body and thrusting my arm out to slam into his chest; attempting to obliterate this impudent fool with the only real technique I have (the ritual doesn't count, that doesn't even use chakra).

  
  


Shock spread across his face as my fingers wrapped around his side; apparently he wasn’t expecting me to be able to move after being decapitated (not surprising given his knowledge was based on canon Hidan and not me).

  
  


Once more the distance between us (as infinitesimal as it was) expanded, this time to the length of a football field. Unfortunately for Brion, however he was warping space also warped my explosion; dragging it along to fill the space he created. A look of shocked horror crossed his face before the air turned to fire, the friction of a small explosion suddenly being made massive and grinding against walls it never should have touched apparently enough to ignite.

  
  


The force of the massive explosion threw me into and partially through the wall behind me, my bones shattering and organs turning to jelly on impact even as the thick stone caved to the pressure. I groaned, ignoring my lack of lungs as easily as I did my shattered everything as I pulled myself from the wall (huh, apparently I was wrong about needing my spine intact to stand up straight…).

  
  


I barely managed to move before the room shrunk down to less than five feet around; the sudden change compressing the rubble to so much dust… and utterly obliterating my body. The devastation was so near to instant that I didn’t even feel it; just one second I was feeling my liquefied innards slosh about and shoot out my healing neck stump like a geyser, then my soul was left with nothing to latch onto but a stain on some near powderized rocks.

  
  


I gave the spiritual equivalent of a scowl and an annoyed huff (like a normal scowl and huff, but  _ ghostly~! Ooh~! _ ). While the rocks thankfully did nothing to my soul, suddenly being sans body was not exactly pleasant. On the plus side, I doubt even the most slippery of cult leaders could have survived that!

  
  


...Probably. Hopefully.

  
  


Fortuitously, the earth provided just as little resistance as the stones and I easily floated out of the hidden chamber and up into the compound proper. A quick look showed everything as I left it.

  
  


I sighed in relief, seeing my scythe still lodged in the back of some loser. A irreverent kick had my soul pulled into the perforated corpse. A groan rumbled out of my throat as I pushed myself up, ignoring the disturbing feeling of having three huge blades where my spine should be and a spool of thick wire in place of much of my brain. 

  
  


As I stood, pulling the spool of wire from my head and attempting to grab my scythe, the sound of heavy breathing and a angry, contemptuous scoff had me turning around. There, standing with visible strain, was the cult leader. 

  
  


He was covered in burns, his clothes still smouldering slightly, and the hate burning in his single remaining eye was brighter than the explosion that cost him its twin. His right arm was simply gone; only a ragged, burned stump a few inches out from the shoulder remained. His left arm was, if anything, worse than the right; where the right was simply removed, the left was burned nearly to nothing. Blackened bone was visible in many places and where it wasn't the flesh appeared to have melted. The skin of his hand had melted around the hilt of his blade, forever holding the implement of murder in a grasp he could never release. Half his skull was burned bare, hair still smouldering and a popped eye dribbling down his molten face.

  
  


A snarl is made so much more expressive when half the lips are burned away to show the naked teeth and muscle beneath. “How… are you…  alive?” 

  
  


By this point my head had regenerated and my body was already mostly converted into my “original” form. Evidently he had assumed me dead just as I had assumed him.

  
  


I smirked back at him, “Clearly, I'm just better than you.”

  
  


Apparently he didn't quite appreciate my well reasoned argument if the way his ruined face twisted in rage was anything to go by. The snarl of rage and the audible sound of leather creaking and flesh tearing coming from his hilt certainly didn’t scream “agreement” to me. Though, perhaps decapitation is just his way of showing his love; kinda like Slaneeshis and eye socket rape.

  
  


This time I managed to duck under the sudden teleportation-assassination. For all he was extraordinarily fast, he wasn’t very clever; seriously, trying the same move twice when it didn’t work the first time? 

  
  


Then again, perhaps I wasn't giving him enough credit; as I shot my arm out to repeat our little dance only to find said limb sliced in half lengthwise. 

  
  


I blinked, bringing my arm up to stare through it. I found myself slightly chuckling as my arm slowly stitched itself back together. Of course, the blade that slid through the wound, into my eye, and out the back of my head only had me laughing louder. I was never a masochist in life, but now I find the idea of being injured immensely amusing. Just the thought of an enemy seeing me recover so effortlessly and still fighting their hopeless battle filled me with wicked amusement. 

  
  


My undamaged eye locked with Brion’s, struggling to get words out through my laughter as my healing arm closed around his blade. “Hahahaha why hahaha do you even haha bother?” Malicious humour blazed from my eye as he attempted to pull his blade free. Attempted being the operative word as I twisted my pierced arm, grabbing the blade with my bare hand; gripping tight enough that the blade nearly severed my fingers.

  
  


I pulled him towards me, seeing fear over take the hate in his eyes as the massive blades sticking out of my chest grew closer. “Come on, pal; gimme a hug! Heh heh heh heh heh!” 

  
  


I grabbed his shoulder with my free hand as soon as he was in reach, sliding it down his back in the most uncomfortably sexual way I could as I pull him closer.  Before I could roughly penetrate his sternum with my metal cocks, he suddenly vanished.

  
  


However, he didn’t quite get away clean; on the end of the longest blade was a drop of blood.

  
  


A wicked, malicious grin spread across my face as I swiped the drop on to my finger tip, bringing it to my lips…

  
  


Only to get stabbed through the top of the head just before my tongue touched the blood. The cult leader twisted, putting his full weight into levering his blade through my face and torso. 

  
  


I blinked, giving the cultists a deadpan look; I would have like to outright say “Really? Are you fucking kidding me? Did you think that would work? Really?” But having my throat and mouth cut open vertically made the words come out as more of an unintelligible gurgle than a sardonic admonishment.

  
  


Ignoring my amused disdain, Brion pulled his blade from my guts; making sure to twist it as he did in yet another futile attempt to inconvenience me. Rather than just stand there like a particularly gormless training dummy and let him slash me up I reached forward, grabbing his mangled wrist and hold his blade in place.

  
  


I pulled him closer, driving his blade further into me in the process. I stared him right in the eye, smiling widely as my face knitted itself back together before bursting out laughing once again.

  
  


I knew he would try to use his strange space-warping fuckery to get away so I headed him off, using my immense strength to drive my fingers into his flesh. Even when he warped space to travel, he still actually traveled that distance, thus, if he wanted to slip away, he was going to lose his remaining arm.

  
  


The half-melted grimace stretched across across his face in answer to my decidedly less than sane smile told me he understood that quite well. I laughed in his face, spraying bloody saliva over his burned visage; unlike me, he didn’t appear to have any sort of regeneration. I could lose an arm and be inconvenienced for a short time; he loses his last arm and he’s effectively dead without a prosthetic (and considering the only prosthetics I know of in this world come either from dead men or mass murderers, that isn’t likely).

  
  


He gave a wordless growl, working his jaw as if he were attempting to speak but only ragged, hateful noises slipped through his fire-blackened teeth. I didn’t bother threatening him. Simply ripping open his jaw with my left hand, slipping it down his throat and clawing at the soft flesh within. Unfortunately, the drop of blood I got off my scythe was lost when he nearly cut me in half; but that would hardly prevent me from reaping a bloody harvest of agony and despair.

  
  


With my arm halfway down his throat he was in much the same dilemma as my piercing his hand; though with a significantly more costly price than a limb. My smirk widened to near face-tearing levels at my foe’s obvious distrest; I was not oblivious to the sexual connotations to shoving something down someone’s throat. I know that overtly sexual actions make people uncomfortable; this can be used in combat to off put the enemy and gain an advantage, or in torture to make it just that little bit worse for the victim. 

  
  


I was about to push my arm shoulder deep to start routing about in his innards when Jashin finally spoke up,  **_“He is the Champion of a God of space.  As a Champion his soul cannot simply be devoured; he’s too linked to his patron for a simple murder to put him in my grasp. He must be ritualistically sacrificed…”_ ** She was quite for a long moment as I sat back and watched what little of Brion’s face that wasn’t blackened turn blue; I could tell she had more to say and was willing to let her gather her thoughts or confidence or whatever.  **_“Champions are both a God’s greatest strength… and their greatest weakness. If a Champion is captured by another God’s Champion and sacrificed properly, the link between God and Champion will drag the Champion’s God to be devoured alongside them.”_ **

  
  


My eyes widened in sync with Brion’s fluttering shut;  _ that _ was decidedly uncomfortable news. While it would be far from easy to capture me (I’m not sure if that’s even possible considering I can just ditch my body if necessary), it was still disturbing to know my very soul and that of my God could be destroyed no matter how unlikely. 

  
  


_ “Alright then, what’s this ritual I have to do?”  _ Uncomfortable as it was to acknowledge my own mortality, the idea that I could kill Gods was just the sort of thrill I needed. Watching the cult leader slowly asphyxiate was amusing, but not exactly conducive to whatever ritual I needed to commit. I wasn’t willing to  _ stop _ choking him though; consciousness would return far too quickly once oxygen is reintroduced. Besides, it can take upwards of ten minutes for someone to die of asphyxiation; I had plenty of time.

  
  


**_“Create an enlarged version of my symbol out of blood; roughly thrice the size of what you used to stand in during the linked blood ritual, though it doesn't really matter so long as the victim fits within the triangle. Who the blood comes from also doesn't matter.”_ **

  
  


Well, if that's step one it sounds like this'll take more than ten minutes; I need some, non-fatal, way of restraining a pseudo-teleporter. I could literally bolt him to the ground, but he'd likely bleed out before I could end him rightly (luckily his burns seem to have prevented him from bleeding out already, though shock may be a dangerous factor). 

  
  


Pondering how to restrain a pseudo-teleporter for a brief moment as I pulled my blade from my back I was struck with an idea that brought a grin to my face. “Can I lobotomize him first? Does his brain need to be intact?” His body sure as fuck didn't considering the state of it and Jashin’s lack of related complaints.

  
  


**_“Hmmm, I don’t see why not. It’s his soul we need, not his mind.”_ ** Makes sense to me; technically we only need his body because it houses his soul.

  
  
  


Now, I  _ could _ have looked around for a senbon or some such to perform a crude lobotomy; but frankly I didn't give enough of a fuck to bother. Instead, I quickly searched my new (and oversized) clothes for a knife; finding a slightly rusty hunting knife.

  
  


Giving the blade a quick look over (and smiling at the wicked serration) I jabbed the blade into his good eye, angling the blade to attempt to hit as much of his frontal lobe as possible without hitting anything else. Once the blade was sunk to the hilt in gray matter I started twisting and turning it, mangling his personality and active functioning beyond repair. When I pulled the blade out, dragging a chunk of his brain with it, I left a mindless husk behind.

  
  


The thought brought a smirk to my face as I gutted a few random cadavers, using their still warm blood to paint the proscribed enlarged ritual circle around my mutilated foe. Standing up and wiping my hands off on my pants (meh, they don’t even fit right) I looked over my work for a moment before a thought struck me. “Hey… why doesn’t his god just abandon him if they know this whole ritual thing ‘ll kill ‘em.”

  
  


I could sense Jashn considering how to answer for a moment before she spoke up,  **_“There are a number of reasons, though the first is by far the most important: gods cannot abandon their Champion. Once the link has been formed it cannot be broken even if either side wants to. And before you ask; you’re a special case, a loophole if you will. I used a god of time to bring my consciousness back in time to change my decision before I made it; even then I had to place you in the same body and rewrite the Blueprint of your Soul to trick the link even before it had technically formed.”_ **

  
  


I nodded slowly, considering what she said, “Okay… but you mentioned other reasons? Why would there be other reasons if the choice isn’t present?”

  
  


**_“The only other reason for a god to allow this ritual to take place -if they can do something about it, which this god cannot now- is if they either don’t recognise the ritual or think they could be stronger than the god seeking to consume them.”_ **

  
  


I raised an eyebrow, “That has dangerous implications; can this ritual be reversed?”

  
  


I could feel her nod even though I highly doubted she had anything approaching humanoid physiology (or any physiology at all for that matter),  **_“Indeed. The ritual uses the link between champions and gods to connect two gods, allowing -and, indeed, forcing- the deities to devour one another. When the ritual is performed a god will always be devoured; just not necessarily the god of the champion performing the ritual.”_ ** Sensing my rising anxiety over the prospect, she sent a wave of comforting cool numbness and faint pleasure,  **_“You needn’t fear; this is a pure contest of strength and I have a decided advantage. I will not lose.”_ **

  
  


Mollified but still wary, I glanced about. “Alright then, what do I do now?”

  
  


**_“Cut open his chest, tear out his heart, drink the blood pouring from it, say “Consumptura est infirma”, then eat the heart. Simple enough.”_ **

  
  


Simple enough indeed. “Latin, huh? Does this world even have Latin?” Seriously, why do all these vaguely evil rituals involve Latin?

  
  


I could feel Jashin’s embarrassment through our link,  **_“I presume whoever invented the ritual was going through a bit of a phase.”_ **

  
  


I laughed aloud as I wiped the brain chunks off my blade and knelt down over Brion. Even covered in third degree burns over most of his body, he was losing blood fast; especially from his impromptu lobotomy. A quick check told me he was still alive (if only barely) so I rushed to get the ritual done.

  
  


A single slash opened up his chest and exposed his innards to the sky. Face blank, I thrust my hand into his chest (briefly wondering why I even bothered cutting him open) and wrapping my long fingers around his weakly pulsating heart.

  
  


One sharp tug freed the organ from its fleshy prison and exposed it to my hungry gaze. Knowing I had little time before the organ stopped beating I held it above my head, quickly guzzled down the blood pushed out with every pulse.

  
  


“Consumptura est infirma.” So saying, I shoved the symbol of love and life in my mouth and down my throat. 

  
  


I expected a lot of things as I physically forced the uncooked meat down my throat; a rush of ineffable pain and pleasure was definitely on the list. Even with the many ideas I had in my head, the sheer discomfort of having my soul be forcibly connected to another before two gods tried to suck each other through them.

  
  


I had expected to pass out, the stress of a god being filtered through my soul overwhelming me. I didn’t. I wish I had; but I didn’t. The the feeling wasn’t exactly pain, but it was indescribably uncomfortable. It felt both like I was way to full and uttery starving; at the same time I felt as if the fundamental concept of  **_I_ ** was both being eroded and bolstered simultaneously. 

  
  


I don’t know if it was seconds or centuries later when the ritual ended (though, judging by the fact that nothing had changed around me, I assume it was  _ not  _ the latter) but I felt both wholly the same and utterly changed by the experience. I suppose this is the closest a non-schizophrenic could get to a religious experience without drugs (fitting considering an actual god had set it up).

  
  


I took a deep breath through my nose, holding it for a few seconds before releasing it from my mouth. “Well… that happened.” I glanced around, “So what do I get out of this whole debacle?”

  
  


Jashin’s laughter echoing through my soul both thrilled and terrified me.


	7. Gniniart

**Gniniart**

  
  


Teleportation. Teleportation is what I gained. I could be in one place one second and another in the next without traveling between them. Why I didn’t get Brion’s ability to warp space I have no idea, but I couldn’t say instantaneous travel wasn’t useful. 

  
  


Now, in the Naruto world one might think teleportation wasn’t all that impressive; what with the Body Flicker and the Hiraishin and what not. But calling teleportation common was far from true: the Hiraishin required an anchor to transport to, the Body Flicker was actually just extremely high speed movement (and causes combat debilitating disorientation), Kamui is slow and can only go to places you’ve been before, Sasuke’s eye more opened portals than actual teleportation, Kaguya’s power was similar to Sasuke. I had no such weakness.

  
  


I could instantly transport from one place to the other with no side effects; it was disorienting at first to suddenly be somewhere else, but it had no physically deletrius effects and was completely instant. Bouncing around the ruined village a few times helped me get over the mentally and visually off putting sensation of suddenly being elsewhere. At first my brain seemed to skid out when I teleported; my mind trying desperately to understand how my perspective had suddenly changed. 

  
  


I grabbed my stuff (hidden a few miles outside the compound) and was about to teleport back to the store when a thought struck me. “Fuck!” I snap fingers, “That binder full of info got mashed when I lost my second body. Damn it, I bet that mind control seal he had was in there.”

  
  


I turned to look back at the burning compound, scowling in irritation as the main building finally collapsed in on itself. I turned away with a weary sigh, only to come to a grinding halt as Jashin spoke up.

  
  


**_“You needn’t worry.”_ ** My shadow darkened, turning from a mere discolouring of the ground to a pool of seemingly depthless darkness; a ripple spreading across the surface as something slowly rose out of it. My eyes widened and a grin spread across my face as the thin black binder revealed itself.  **_“I stored it away in the void before it was destroyed.”_ **

  
  


My grin nearly split my face as I snatched up the file, flipping through it, “Jashin, have I ever told you I love you? ‘Cause I fuckin’ do.” My flippant declaration sent a thrill of surprise through Jashin.

  
  


**_“Are… are you sure?”_ ** Her voice was uncharacteristically hesitant and small.

  
  


I laughed aloud, “Hell yeah! Name me a country and I’ll see about exterminating it in your name!” My eyes scanned each page closely as I flipped through them rapidly, “It probably won’t be any time soon, nations don’t tend to be that easy to eradicate, but I guarantee I’ll get to it eventually.” I paused , looking up from the binder for a moment and looking up at the sky as storm clouds gathered. “Call it a wedding present.”

  
  


The world suddenly grew significantly darker, turning day to night for a moment as all things dark and vile were bolstered and madness spiked, violence erupting randomly across the globe and conflicts being made more vicious and hateful. An ear piercing noise, high and shrill, left the more psychically attuned deafened and seers brain-dead. The moment faded as swiftly as it came, leaving the spiritually knowledgeable and the paranoid on equal footing; freaking the fuck out and preparing for the end times.

  
  


I blinked, clearing my ear with my pinky and glancing about in confusion before going back to flipping through Brion’s little black book. Jashin quietly speaking up returned my attention to her.

  
  


**_“You’re not joking… are you?”_ **

  
  


I raised an eyebrow. I hadn’t been entirely serious in the moment, but upon reflection I didn’t regret it. “Well; we are gonna be stuck together forever anyway, why not take a symbolic step.” For an instant the sun turned black, buffeting all who stood beneath its gaze with pure evil and inflicting otherworldly malice upon reality. In that single instant a thousand psychos were born and a million little grievances suddenly seemed so much more important. The results of this split second would echoe in history as the world was made a worse place and its denizens just that little bit more monstrous.

  
  


I gave a faint shudder, a slight jolt of pleasure my only reaction to an exposure of cosmic evil. Disregarding the event, my eyes lit up as they settled upon what I had been looking for. Near the back, tucked between several boring, dry, and unimportant dossiers was a detailed instruction and diagram of exactly what I wanted. 

  
  


It wasn’t outright mind control, nor was it just one seal. The two seals were linked; one placed on the victim and one on the victor. The seal placed on the master had two effects; the first was to link the second seal so that the bearer of the first was the target, and the second was essentially a lightened version of the second seal’s effects as an aura around the bearer. The seal for the victim was where it got interesting; instead of outright mind control the seal slowly conditioned the victim to love and obey the master. Any positive thoughts about the first seal bearer caused a very slight amount of pleasure whilst negative thoughts caused equally slight pain.

  
  


It was brilliant. All creatures innately sought to avoid pain and seek pleasure (excluding the occasional nutter or things that have no concept of pain); this seal would subtly program them to _ want _ to obey me, and to never dissent. The pleasure and pain were so subtle that even if you were looking for such things you likely wouldn’t notice it, but at the same time it was enough for your subconscious to notice and act on.

  
  


My grin quite literally split my face; combine this with what the slaver could teach and I’d have my slave harem soon enough. 

  
  


My musings were interrupted by Jashin speaking up once more,  **_“The Land Of Fire.”_ **

  
  


I raised an eyebrow, “What about it?”

  
  


**_“Destroy it. Take the largest concentration of life and hope and reduce it to an ashen wasteland that will never again support life.”_ **

  
  


My laughter sent birds fleeing in all directions, “HmhmhmhmhehehehehahahahaHAHAHAHAHA! I like the way you think. Done; the forest shall perish in the flames that defended it.” Torching the Leaf sounds like a bloody good time; though, there are some people there I might want to “recruit". “Do I have to kill  _ everyone;  _ there are some that would make decent slaves.”

  
  


**_“Hmm, there is something appealing in the only survivors serving the killer. Fine, take your slaves.”_ **

  
  


I grinned, thinking of just how and when I would sack the Leaf and burn the Fire. Just before I teleported to the shop I was struck by a thought; I know where the mountain graveyard is. Which means I know where Madara is. A weak, old, crippled Madara who likely could barely defend himself (though, I’d wager a decrepit Madara is still tougher than the average ninja). Those eyes… I want his eyes.

  
  


Unfortunately, I have no way of keeping them from body to body and am somewhat afraid my regeneration might overwrite them, making acquiring them worse than pointless.

  
  


**_“Kill 28 more people. We are close enough that all I need are a number of souls and you'll be able to modify the blueprint of your soul; including keeping additions.”_ **

  
  


I frowned, considering the logistics. A small peasant village with no ninja would likely have about that many people in it… but I have no idea where any such easy targets would be. I could once again just randomly wander, but that's far from efficient. Besides, I'm not entirely sure I could even kill Madara as he is and even if I could I want to wait until Obito finishes his training (no way do I want to accidentally prevent the Akatsuki from forming!). Best to learn what I could from the shop keep and wait until I can actually use real jutsu before I challenge the deadliest man to ever live.

  
  


Decision made, I teleported back to the slaver’s shop. I smiled from the shadowy corner I had warped to, watching the doctor struggle to stay awake at his desk. I, of course, took the opportunity to fuck with him.

  
  


I silently crept up behind him, stopping when I was just out of arm’s reach. Just before I could shout at the top of my lungs he spoke up, “You really think I'm so rusty I couldn't sense you sneaking up on me, brat?”

  
  


I straightened up, chuckling and scratching the back of my head sheepishly, “Heh heh heh heh. Nah, just testin’ ya.” Sure, let’s go with that. I dropped my hand from my neck into a pocket as the shopkeep turned around, I could see his eyebrows rise as he took in my ill-fitting clothes. Before he could comment on my attire, I tossed him the human storage scroll. “Got’cha some slaves, old man; more than you asked for even.” 

  
  


I smirked as he caught the scroll, unfurling it quickly and widening his eyes at what he saw. Apparently something on the seal told you what was contained; if I knew anything about seals I probably would have already known that. 

  
  


He looked from me to the scroll and back twice, “Forty? You caught forty slaves in that time? How exactly?” Well, at least that implies that putting more than expected in the scroll didn't damage the goods or scroll. Good to know; I was worried there for a bit that I’d open the scroll and all that would pour out would be a pile of crushed people.

  
  


I smirked, shrugging my shoulders theatrically, “Heh, it was easy; I just ransacked a village.”

  
  


He outright gaped at me for seven solid seconds before throwing his finance book at me. “Are you fucking insane, you damned idiot! You think nobody’ll notice a whole town full of people going missing!?” I hid a grin as the books pages fluttered on there way to me; the milliseconds each page was exposed to my gaze was not nearly long enough for anyone without a Sharingan to memorize, but Jashin wasn't just anyone.

  
  


I just chuckled, “I covered my tracks, old man. Not only did I loot and burn the place, I also scattered bits of corpses from their morgue and a couple that put up a fight.” I shrugged again, “Hell, a nearby village turned out to be a compound for a violent death cult that got wiped out in a religious debacle. Anyone who investigates will just think it was either bandits or collateral damage from the mini holy war that went down nearby.” Fuck, I forgot to steal that guy’s Nazi/Jashinist outfit before I tossed him into the fire! Damnit, I’ll probably never find another. Oh well, it probably wouldn’t have fit anyway. 

  
  


The “customizer” sighed, “So long as nothing can be traced back to me, it's fine.”

  
  


I waved a hand dismissively, “Not a chance.” A grin spread across my face, “Now, why don't you take stock of your new goods and then we can get down to my payment; I believe we agreed that you'd teach me what you know of seals in exchange for a discounted rate?” 

  
  


He nodded distractedly, eyes glued to the scroll as he walked towards the back room. “Yes yes, I'll teach you what I know.” His eyes flicked up to look me over, “Though I suggest you get some clothes that actually fit first.” 

  
  


I laughed, “Heh, sure. I'll just grab something from your stocks, eh?” I didn't wait for him to respond, already moving to find something that wasn't horrifically uncomfortable.

  
  


I quickly threw on some bright purple pants with an electric green lightning pattern zigging down the right leg and red rings going down the left (because fuck it, I can dress how I want! All the strongest ninja are eccentric anyway), a mint green t-shirt with hot pink vertical stripes (which I once more drew a Jashinist symbol on the front of in blood), and I acquired a pair of bright red combat boots. I was about to head to the back room when I saw it; there, tucked away in a dark corner, was something I never knew just how much I needed it until I saw it.

  
  


**_“Really, not being a touch over dramatic are we?”_ **

  
  


I grinned so wide my cheeks tore, “Not in the slightest.” I pulled the beautiful jacket out from the shadows, revealing a bright purple feather coat to the light. “Where have you been all my life, beautiful?” I immediately threw it over my shoulders, wearing it as a cape as is proper. 

  
  


I jumped and twirled a bit, testing if it stayed in place. Somehow, defying my previous experience and all expectations, even though I had no way of actually holding it to my shoulders (my chakra control had improved, but not enough that I would be willing to risk something this magnificent) it acted as if it were attached to my shoulders, only coming off if I was actively attempting to pull it off. 

  
  


I  grinned from ear to ear, quickly searching around for some matching sunglasses. While I couldn't find any perfect copies, a pair did exist; rather than red lenses and a white frame it had blue lenses and a green frame.

  
  


My grin could be pulled off and used as a razor sharp boomerang, “Fuck yeah, I'm Hidan cosplaying as a pallet swapped Doflamingo! Two of my favorite characters combined!” I rubbed my chin, “Hmm, I wonder if I could convince Sasori to teach me chakra strings… and if that would even be useful…” Probably not, doesn't really seem like something I'd get much use out of.

  
  


Grin still firmly in place, I  _ swaggered  _ into the back room. The doctor had a young, blonde chick strapped to his table, tears streaming down her face past her apparent paralysis as he took a scalpel to her chest. The rest of the slaves were stacked like cordwood in the cells, clearly also paralysed. 

  
  


“Heh heh, wassup doc?” Had I a carrot, I most assuredly would have bitten into it to punctuate my words. As it was I simply leaned against one of the cages and poked a slave with the ring of a kunai.

  
  


He glanced over at me, raising an eyebrow at my… eye-catching apparel. “Well, that's certainly a more… flamboyant ensemble than I expected.” He grunted, turning back to his work, “Hmph, all the best ninjas had a signature look; strikes fear into their enemies and makes it easier to blend in when your not wearing it.”

  
  


“True enough, true enough. I figured the bright coloration would match my charming personality.” I said with a straight face.

  
  


The slave trader snorted from where he had resumed vivisecting a woman, “Heh, yeah, you’re just a sterling example of the kindness inherent in man’s heart, eh?”

  
  


I laughed, “Heh heh heh heh! Sure sure,” I sauntered over to the doctor and watched him work. “So, what is it your doin’ here; makin’ her tits bigger?”

  
  


He shrugged, briefly glancing over at a manila folder splayed open on a little tray amongst his tools. “Eventually. See, I'm not like other slave traders; people usually don't just buy in bulk from me. In point if fact, I'm paid to order, each slave customized separately and usually uniquely; though I do have some standard packages.”

  
  


I stared into the woman's opened chest cavity curiously, watching the doctor fiddle with her lungs. “Such as?”

  
  


He waved a bloodsoaked, gloved hand as he set down his scalpel and reached for what appeared to be a hot glue gun. “I have standards models based on the desired purpose of each slave; you know, weather they’re for sex or manual labour or an arena and what not.” The strange tool poured out a fluid that was decidedly not heated glue, seemingly melding a price of foreign (and artificial looking) flesh to a cut in the woman's right lung.

  
  


The doctor set the tool aside, pointing generally at the woman's tear stained face, “This one here is headed for a specialty brothel, so she’ll be getting a bit more than the standard battery of sex worker modifications. In general, I increase their lung capacity, make their skin softer and more elastic, their muscles a bit springy-er at the cost of being less effective, make the heart bigger and have it pump fast, give them more and more sensitive nerves, remove most of their higher thought processes and capacity for violence while increasing their base desires, increasing bone flexibility and joint rotation limits, increase regeneration speed, and other such things for sex slaves.” The slave looked increasingly unhappy as the doctor described some of what he intended to do to her.

  
  


He waved his hand dismissively, setting aside the unnamed tool before taking up what appeared to be an obsidian tipped scalpel. He used said scalpel to gesture at the woman, trailing it along her skin before pointing at her eyes,  “The buyer requested this one get blue skin, solid black eyes, green hair and nails, and make her vagina and the inside of her mouth orange with purple fluids.” He shrugged, starting to cut open her heart and do unspeakable things to it, “Meh, no accounting for taste, I suppose.”

  
  


I raised an eyebrow, “You can do all that?” This had potential beyond even my initial thoughts if that was true.

  
  


He scoffed, “Are you doubting my skills, brat?” He shook his head, once more picking up his strange tool and fusing, pale, artificial flesh to the innards of the woman's heart (a seal on her arteries seemingly performing the hearts duties in its place). The grey flesh quickly turned red when blood rushed in and began performing its unknown function. “Aye kid, I can do all that. Better yet, I can make it stick.” He patted the woman's thigh with a wry grin, “Once I'm done with ‘er, even if she were skinned alive it would grow back blue.”

  
  


I smirked, “Really? And, what do you do for gladiators, exactly?”

  
  


His smirk matched my own, “Why, lookin’ to get yourself the combat suite?”

  
  


I shrugged, “Perhaps.”

  
  


He laughed, “Ha! Before I'll hack you up and make you better,” he turned, poking me in the chest with a blood covered finger (luckily not staining anything or I would of had to kill him), “You need to perfect what you already have.”

  
  


I raise an eyebrow, exaggerating the gesture to be seen behind my shades. “Oh, and are you going to help my with that  _ and _ fulfil your side of our little deal.”

  
  


He smirked, waving a hand at the packed cages. “You have gone above and beyond the bounds of our agreement; so to shall I.” He tossed a scalpel into a bloody bowl, grabbing a clamp and using it pinch a tendon out of place for reasons I couldn't begin to guess.

  
  


I grinned to match my coat, “Well then, when do we start?”

  
  


He tossed me a pair of gloves, “Right now.”

  
  


___________<^><^><^><^>_:______________

  
  
  
  


Three years passed in a blur of boredom, training, kidnapping, and murder. Thirty six murders to be specific. A depressingly low amount considering the time it took, but training and mass murder have one major thing in common; they both take time. My schedule isn't quite big enough to slot in both. Yet.

  
  


Luckily, thirty six kills still more than got me over the threshold to be able to manipulate the blueprint of my soul. The first thing I did was make myself taller and give myself a bigger dick; because I'm a red blooded man and of fucking course I did. I briefly considered making myself ten feet tall, but eventually decided that would be more of a hindrance than a help and settled on six foot six.

  
  


The second thing I did was make my clothes and scythe part of me (I tried to include my throwing weapons, but they would fall apart and return to me too quickly to be effective ranged weapons). This meant that said items would regenerate if they were damaged and means that when I grab or generate a new body, I wouldn't lose them.

  
  


The doctor (who’s name I learned was  Rinri Ketsujo) turned out to be a competent if utterly psychotic teacher (I’m at least a hundred percent sure he tried to kill me several times). My handwriting proved too atrocious for him to even consider teaching me seals until art critics would jizz their pants looking at my writing; which took up most of the first year. After he learned I didn’t require any sort of break at any point for any reason he kicked it into overdrive; when I wasn’t doing physical and chakra control training (usually simultaneously because God hates me no matter how many times Jashin vehemently disagrees) I was learning sealing or the arcane medical practises involved in the varied modifications he inflicted on his merchandise, many of the which he had developed seals to do for him, though the seals didn’t work as quickly. 

  
  


One  _ particular  _ custom seal based procedure brought a perversely pleased grin to my face; see, female slaves were more sought after than male slaves but male slaves are more common, so Rinri decided to solve this little problem. I laughed aloud when he told me he did it so often he had decided to just make a seal for it; because why wouldn’t I want to fuck female versions of my favorite characters, especially when someone makes it so easy for me?

  
  


Despite having all of my plans altered heavily because of one bit of ink, my training definitely paid off. Physically I got faster and stronger, though my growth here wasn’t very impressive considering I started pretty strong and increasing my musculature through regeneration of my level was… difficult to say the least. Where my training really shone was in chakra manipulation and control.

  
  


Where as when I started I accidentally blew up trees when I tried to cling to them, now I could water walk without disrupting the surface. While I still wasted a shitload of chakra with every expenditure (which was mostly irrelevant considering how much I had, though it still annoyed me to have anything less than perfection), my control had gotten good enough that I could actually start making use of the scrolls I stoll. Most notably, the primer on mixing elements.

  
  


Of course, first I had to master two elements at least. My primary affinity turned out to be for lightning; which could be slightly problematic. Lightning is one of the more variable elements, useful for just about everything; so I’m not exactly upset about it. The problem is that lightning is also the most difficult to master and has relatively few known/confirmed combinations.

  
  


As far as combinations go, while there are several theorised subelements using lightning, only one of them is actually confirmed to be true. This means that in mixing elements I’ll be mostly on my own regarding what the elements will combine into. Given this, I decided to focus on the only confirmed combination, which also just so happened to fire  _ fucking  _ **_lasers_ ** ; Storm Release.

  
  


Again, I still had to master lightning first; which is far from easy. Lightning liked to do its own thing and go where it wanted to go and had to be fought for control unlike anything but fire. I had managed to get the creation of lightning down pat, actual control was more difficult (my dreams of blitzing around in lightning armour went down in flames the third time I electrocuted myself… for now). I could send blasts of lightning in the direction I wanted them to go (fuck hand seals, I’ll do it without or I won’t do it at all!), shoot weak bolts in every direction (because, fuck it; why not?), mimic Sith lightning, and perform a crude (and self damaging) imitation of the chidori. I could  _ kind of  _ control a bolt after I fire it, curving it jaggedly in directions in wide and barely controlled arcs.

  
  


As for water… it was barely worth speaking about. I could make my hands wet and fling a couple droplets around (fuck ambient water manipulation, I will allow no handicap or weakness! Besides, I have enough chakra that unless I want to make truly ludicrous amounts of water from thin air I would be fine. When I eventually get to Earth Release, I’ll make an exception to not using ambient material; though I still plan to see if earth could be made from chakra alone) and I suppose I could use that as a distraction or if a companion needed water (I never will), but I was far from making moving oceans or huge water dragons. The best I could do was send water balls that hit like a light punch a few feet from me. My progress with other elements could be summed up entirely as nonexistent.

  
  


Rinri was of little help when it came to controlling my element; the only element he knew was earth and he was far from a master.

  
  


Seals are fucking hard… for anyone who doesn’t possess an eidetic memory. While  _ I myself  _ do not have an absolutely perfect memory,  _ Jashin _ does. The rules and logic behind seals are arcane and baffling, but they do exist, and Jashin, who doesn’t necessarily think like a human and never forgets anything, could easily follow them. She turned out to be a fucking master at seals, easily understanding and even semi-frequently improving upon Rinri’s designs. Currently my clothes had strengthening, environmental regulation, weight reduction, and flexibility enhancing seals all over the insides of them; most of them designed by Jashin. I could trust my clothes to reliably turn away any thrown weapons and possibly bladed melee weapons. I would strengthen them even further, but if I did they wouldn’t be able to function as clothes, even with enhanced flexibility they simply wouldn’t bend after a certain point, nor would they be comfortable. Given I’m immortal, I’ll prioritize being comfortable over safety everytime. For the same reason, I didn't cover my skin in seals; it felt awful. The only seal on my skin was the master part of the indoctrination seal disguised as a crimson symbol of Jashin on my chest.

  
  


The only reason I wasn’t covered in seals to enhance everything and block everything was that the same thing that made Jashin extraordinarily good at remembering and improving seals, also made her shit at coming up with new ones based on ideas she hadn’t already seen. I could make bigger or smaller explosion seals, but I couldn’t make an  _ im _ plosion seal. I would need to find a seal master or more scrolls on sealing to expand my little arsenal; the doctor’s seal knowledge wasn’t very focused on combat, the only reason I had the generally useful things I did was because Rinri used them on some slaves.

  
  


The doctor offered to modify me in similar ways to those he gives to Gladiators (minus some of the less beneficial things, like lobotomization and reduction of nerves) and some more… exclusive things. Apparently when he said I needed to “perfect what I already have" he only meant physically, not chakra wise. Knowing there wouldn’t really be a downside if I decided I don’t like the changes; I took him up on it.

  
  


Now, considering I’m immortal and don't need plebian things like food, water, air, sleep, and pretty much everything else; I also didn’t need most of my organs. When I told Rinri such, the massive grin that spread across his face conjured images of Nazi scientists to my mind and I got a sinking feeling. I gave the doctor three strict rules: one; I have to have human proportions (roughly). Two; I still need to be able to use chakra. And three; My dick still needs to work.

  
  


With these restraints in place, the good doctor proceeded to almost entirely hollow me out; replacing all the useless guff with sweet, sweet enhancements. Now, while my soul controlled my body, I still needed said body to be able to move in the ways I want it to unless I want to tear myself apart with every step. Luckily, Rinri has quite a bit of experience doing heinous things to the human body and managed to not fuck me to hell.

  
  


All my decorative innards were replaced with enhanced muscles, a layer of chakra conductive mesh lay under my skin, I have more and faster nerves, my bones were replaced with stronger, more solid variants. I still have a cardiovascular system, because apparently “chakra coils" follow the veins (which explains why blood is so useful for seals and my rituals; it's the second most chakra saturated part of the body behind the heart, the literal seat of one's chakra core); but even that was expanded to enlarge my chakra system. I also needed blood for rituals Jashin assured me I could do that require them and so I can get hard.

  
  


To anyone else the surgery would leave them covered in horrific scars for a grand total gain of a painful death; thankfully, I don't scar, nor do I die. Other than being heavier and moving differently, I felt  _ completely and utterly  _ **_inhuman and strange._ ** Which is actually kinda cool.

  
  


The only other thing of real note that had changed was that I poisoned each blade of my scythe: the top blade was coated in a neurotoxin, the middle had a hemotoxic coat, the last had a cytotoxic coating.

  
  


Rinri’s voice drew me from my musings, “Hey brat, I just got word that Iwa’s army got massacred. With a great nation licking their wounds and mostly undefended, all the minor villages and towns under their protection are vulnerable; this is a golden opportunity to grab some choice subjects and get some bulk stock.” He jabbed a finger at me, “Go grab some.”

  
  


I grinned. So the third war is over, eh? Laughter leaked between my now shark-like teeth as my smile spread from ear to ear (having widened my jaw specifically for this purpose, even if I did claim it was to be able to use biting as an actual weapon to Rinri). 

  
  


Time to rip some magic eyes from a decrepit (and possibly dead) old man.


	8. Ghost Eyes

**Ghost Eyes**

  
  


Turns out, knowing the general area of something and knowing the specific location of a  _ hidden _ base are two very different things. I spent several days dicking around in the general area of the Mountain Graveyard before Jashin spoke up,  **_“There is a massive source of bloodshed and darkness nearby.”_ **

  
  


I grinned, that could easily be either Madara, who had probably individually murdered more people than anyone else, or Zetsu, who was the cause of nearly every conflict in history; either one will lead me where I want to go.

  
  


Following Jashin’s guidance soon brought me to a cave, or more accurately, the opening to an abandoned mine. I heavily suspect it was covered in genjutsu that would set most people’s heads spinning; unfortunately for the Ghost of the Uchiha, I’m completely immune to genjutsu, no matter how skilled the caster.

  
  


I swaggered on in, looking around to find Madara and hopefully not get dogpiled by a billion Zetsus. Fortunately, Madara was apparently too confident in his genjutsu to layer his retirement home in traps and the Zetsus were too busy tripping out in the basement to work as security. Where Black Zetsu and Obito were I have no idea.

  
  


A few minutes of wandering about was all it took to find the deadliest man to ever live. He was just sitting there in his throne by that damned tree, waiting. I couldn't tell whether he knew I was coming or just wanted to look like it; considering he went all “I AM GOD!” near the end, either choice is possible.

  
  


He didn’t bother opening his eyes as I approached, greeting me with a voice laced with disdain. “Oh, and who are you, brat? Certainly not that fool Obito.”

  
  


I laughed, “Who,” I brought a hand to my chest theatrically, “Little old me?” 

  
  


“Hn ™, your attempts at humor are grating boy; speak plainly. Who are you and why are you here?” 

  
  


I kept my smirk up, trying to cover up my nervousness. Madara Uchiha, no matter how old and decrepit, is still Madara Fucking Uchiha; on a particularly good day I would give a guy with my skill set a decidedly poor chance of beating him, and I was severely handicapped. I had to un-poison my scythe because every one of the poisons caused some form of tissue damage and the possibility they could damage his eyes was unacceptable; for the same reason I couldn’t use most of my Jutsu.

  
  


Given these horrible disadvantages, one may be wondering how I had any hope of beating the living legend. Two words: immortality and teleportation. Going up against Madara in his prime, I have no doubt he would shit stomp me no matter how many times I came back; maybe,  _ maybe _ I would be able to wear him down if I gave him no rest for, like, a decade or so or I might get lucky and get a drop of blood if he doesn't know about my abilities and that’s the game, but in his prime I doubt I would ever really have a chance. This was not Madara in his prime. Age has slowed him, lessened his stamina, and crippled his body; this is a Madara I can beat. All I need is a drop of blood and its all over.

  
  


I didn’t bother answering; instead I teleported right in front of him, my hand shooting out to slam into his chest and hopefully destroy his torso (though, given how durable ninjas are that’s not guaranteed). My eyes lit up behind my glasses when his snapped open, revealing those beautiful Sharingan to me. 

  
  


I wasn’t surprised when his cane smashed into the side of my wrist and redirected my blow into his throne as he shot to his feet away from me. Wooden shrapnel shot everywhere as I blasted apart the chair (the tree behind it remained unharmed); Madara dodged every piece with ease while some hit me, bouncing off my strengthened skin and clothes. 

  
  


I didn’t give him time to recover, slashing upwards at him with my scythe as I whirled to face him. He flicked his cane out, catching the top of my blade and lifting himself into the air through it. He flipped over, pulling a blade from the cane and whirling to cut me in half.

  
  


I tilted my head to the side, allowing the blade to catch me on the shoulder and sink in and catch on the bone. I leaned my neck over the wound, trapping his blade before grinning up at him, opening my mouth and shooting out my tongue like a harpoon, the serrated bone tip lancing towards his chest (a little modification inspired by Orochimaru).

  
  


His eyes widened (which sent a jolt of pleasure through me at having surprised  _ the  _ Uchiha Madara) even as he moved, releasing is blade and rolling to the side. Were he in his prime, he would have easily avoided the blow; as is, it slammed into his left shoulder and pierced right through, writhing about to cause as much damage with its barbs as possible and thoroughly coat itself in blood. I didn't bother trying to wrap him up, knowing he would easily cut himself free.

  
  


My grin widened to its face-splitting limit as I retracted the blood coated organ0; both shooting out and retracting taking a fraction of a second each. This was one of my favorite modifications, designed to capitalize on my strengths and take people off guard. While it  _ could _ kill or even restrain someone, it was designed to cause pain and draw blood; my saliva had a chemical that increased sensitivity, thus making the pain even worse. 

  
  


The moment the blood coating my tongue touched my lips my skin began to blacken, white bone marks showing up. I didn't fuck around and waste time torturing him (both out of urgency and respect), simply using a suicide technique that sent thousands of volts racing through my body. My heart stopped immediately; of course, it meant nothing to me, but to Madara…

  
  


...It also apparently meant nothing. I blinked, baffled as the old man simply glared at me. He was halfway through a set of hand seals before I shaped out of my shock (given this is Madara Motherfucking Uchiha, that wasn't a very long time). 

  
  


My purple eyes flickered over the room, trying to understand how he had survived as I idly snapped my left wrist to interrupt his jutsu. Madara simply stared at me across the room, obviously trying to figure out how to beat my voodoo technique just as I tried to puzzle out his survival.

  
  


It didn't take me long to understand what was happening; several blood red vines traveled between his back and the tree he used as life support. Somehow, whatever that tree is doing to help him stave off old age is also either healing him quick enough to prevent death or straight up preventing it absolutely.

  
  


Madara charging at me almost faster than I can track broke me from my thoughts. I rose an eyebrow behind my glasses, whipping out a telescoping pike and driving it through my right knee. I expected him to drop to the earth like Asuma; He did no such thing. Not only did he not stop, he gave no impression of being injured at all. 

  
  


I dodged his swipe, jumping to the side and slashing out to lop off his head.  He crouched to avoid the swing, using the movement to leap into a thrust. I leaned back just a touch to slow, the blade that would have pierced my heart instead skewering my under the chin and out the top of my head. I leaned back further, letting the blade slice through my face as I dropped into a handstand kick to the chin… that he easily dodged, slashing down to cut me in half and forcing me to leap away.

  
  


I stared at him, seeing no sign of my wounds on him.  _ “How. How? How?! How did he break free!?”  _ I was almost in full panic mode now; Madara just shrugged of my trump card like it wasn’t even there.

  
  


I ducked under a swipe, teleporting to swing at the back of the legend’s neck as Jashin spoke up,  **_“He didn’t… the connection is still there.”_ ** I grimaced, both in response to Jashin’s words and to Madara backflipping over my swipe to slash at my throat; if this is him near dead, I’m so, so glad I didn’t try to challenge him at his best.

  
  


Once more the decrepit old man proved to be slightly faster than me, his blade catching my throat a second before I teleported away. This was yet another reason I wanted the Sharingan; the vastly increased reaction time and perception would allow me to better utilize my teleportation in combat. My neck healed up near instantly after I reappeared on the other side of the little cage, behind and to the left of the godseeker; the shallow wound closing almost before it could bleed.  _ “If the connection isn’t broken, why are my wounds not showing up on him?”  _ I sent a bolt of lightning at the Uchiha’s back, grinning externally and grimacing internally when he whirled around, slashing through the bolt with a kunai he proceeded to fire at me. 

  
  


**_“He didn’t break the connection to his blood… he changed his blood.”_ ** My eyes widened as his kunai darted forthe faster than I could see and shot through my chest like a rifle shot; the lightning seeming to greatly enhance its speed.

  
  


Ignoring the closing hole in my chest, my eyes drifted to the pulsating crimson vines attached to the elder’s back.  _ “So you’re telling me that if someone performs a full blood transfusion to replace their blood, they can escape my connection?”  _ I wasn’t surprised she hadn’t told me that; it’s not exactly a common circumstance. 

  
  


A plan formed in my head as I tore my gaze away from the vines and back to the Ancient Uchiha… just in time for a giant blue fist to slam into me. I felt the wall behind me touch my back an instant before I teleported away. 

  
  


I reappeared in the middle of the room, my scythe swinging to cut through the vines  keeping Madara alive. The Gaze of the Destroyer told me all I needed to know; Madara only had one vital point and it was these vines. 

  
  


A second massive blue hand shot towards me, backhanding me into the wall. The two impacts turned most of my insides to jelly; not that it much mattered. I twitched my arm, gripping the wall of the shallow crater I was lodged in. Before I could pull myself out a massive blue sword impaled my… everything, utterly destroying my torso and leaving only my head and limbs  _ mostly _ intact.

  
  


Blood flowed between my teeth like a crimson river as I glared at the Uchiha through my broken sunglasses. As the tinted glass refilled the empty frames a smirk crossed my blood stained lips. Just as Madara started twisting his Susano’o’s blade I teleported away, leaving a large web of explosive seals scrawled on the wall (learning  _ that _ particular sealling trick was a bitch and a half; the chakra control required to create a permanent seal out of nothing is fucking nuts. Luckily I didn't really need this one to be permanent).

  
  
  


The rather massive blast did nothing to the Susano'o blade, simply widening the crater and perhaps slightly pushing the blade back; but that wasn't their purpose. No, they were meant as a distraction.

  
  


Whether the distraction actually worked or Madara’s magnificent eyes saw through my deception as easily as they did everything else, I truly don't know or particularly care. I appeared behind Madara’s throne, amongst the vines at the base of the “tree" he was hooked up to. I slapped my palm against the trunk, channeling Jashin’s power through it and ignoring the strangely pleasurable feeling of cosmic evil flowing through me. A black symbol of Jashin that seemed to radiate darkness burned itself onto the tree as my hand began to mutate. As an eye blinked at me from the back of my hand black veins began to spread across the tree; corrupting it, twisting it from its purpose to something malign and cruel. 

  
  


I had to pull my hand away when small tentacles started slithering out from between the scales on my wrist. Of course, considering my lack of a torso, releasing my grasp on the tree resulted in me crumbling to the ground like a pile of discarded offal. Even so, I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face as I watched thick, cancerous black corruption spread across the great “tree”; especially focusing on the vines connected to Madara.

  
  


I slowly stood up, my torso recovered enough to support weight (though a normal man would fold like house of cards before a shotgun), laughter spilling out between my pointed teeth. My wide eyes gleamed behind my glasses, an unholy purple light shining out around the edges.

  
  


Madara grimaced, lowering his sword and speaking for the first time since he first addressed me. “Hn, your smarter than you look, brat. You never answered my question: who are you and why are you here?”

  
  


I laughed once more, “My names Hidan and I just happened upon you.” I lied carelessly, shrugging my shoulders, “When I recognised who you were I just couldn’t resist challenging the strongest man to ever live.”

  
  


A faint smirk appeared on the ancient legend’s face at my remark as Jashin’s toxic touch reached him, “Hn, it’s a shame I’m so reduced. It may have been fun to dance with one like you at my best.” 

  
  


My smile faded to a more wistful thing as his flesh began to blacken and wither, “Yeah, it really is a shame I’ll never get to see you at your best for myself.”  _ “Please don’t destroy his eyes, Jashin; this whole thing was pointless if they’re damaged.” _

  
  


**_“You needn’t worry; they will survive, unharmed.”_ ** Somehow I got the impression she had something planned for those eyes. I lowered my scythe but didn’t completely drop my guard. I’ve never been one for honour, always thought it was a pointless and self destructive ideal, but there was something… distasteful about killing a man like Madara like this. Not only was he a legendary figure in this world, he was one of my favorite characters as well; watching him wither away as a foe he could never slay devoured him alive seemed… wrong somehow.

  
  


Not that I was gonna stop just because I felt a little off. 

  
  


Madara laughed even as his legs lost the ability to bear his weight, “Perhaps we’ll meet again, hm?”

  
  


I shook my head, walking towards the fallen king. “I doubt it.” Jashin is a bit more possessive about her souls than the Shinigami, I doubt the Edo Tensei will be able to wrench him from her grasp. 

  
  


I watched Madara’s eyelids peel back as his flesh distorted; the fact that he hadn’t even flinched, let alone screamed, as Jashin’s power ravaged his body was quite impressive. I stood over him, my damaged clothes repairing over my now pristine flesh as his rotted away. His jaw moved as if he was attempting to speak, though no words came out, only blackened blood. He gave one last rattling gasp before slumping over; dead.

  
  


I nodded at the dreamer’s body, kneeling down next to him. I gave his shoulder a light shove, pushing him over onto his back, his body partially crumbling into black ashes. The only part of him that showed no signs of damage was his eyes, but even they were changed; the sclera having blackened and the red iris having turned purple.  **_“I decided to customize it for you, alter it just a touch.”_ **

  
  


I raised an eyebrow, “Oh, did you change anything other than the colour scheme?” 

  
  


I got the impression of a shrug as I pulled a jar full of a fluid designed by Rinri to keep organs nice and fresh.  **_“I personalized your Susano’o to fit you better than him and enhanced his abilities a touch. I would do more, but I’d end up destroying them. Perhaps I'll be able to change them more once they're part of you as we get closer.”_ **

  
  


I blinked, highly interested in further enhancements. “Oh, what are his abilities anyways?”

  
  


I got a vague impression of surprise, surprisingly.  **_“You didn't know?”_ **

  
  


I shrugged, removing each eye with the utmost care. “He never used them canonically. Kind of odd actually, you'd think a man fighting for his life and his dreams would do everything in their power to survive; you know, pull out all the stops.”

  
  


A dark voice spoke up behind me just as I plopped the last eye into the tube,  **“That would be my doing.”**

  
  


I jumped, nearly spilling the eyes all over before twisting on the cap and tucking them away in a seal. I turned around in a flash, my eyes widening at the sight that met them; Zetsu (both halves) had somehow snuck up on me.  _ “How the hell did he sneak up on me!? How the hell did he sneak up on  _ you!?”

  
  


**_“I'm not… wait… hmhmhmhmhahahahaHAHAHAHA! He's a being of pure darkness! Give me a moment, honey.”_ **

  
  


I raised an eyebrow at being called “honey", only to be knocked from my thoughts when a deep, booming voice nearly slammed me to my knees from the shear force of their presence; though I adapted quickly.  **_“KNEEL, BEING OF DARKNESS, KNEEL BEFORE YOUR GOD.”_ **

  
  


A look of uncomprehending horror spread across Zetsu’s pseudo-face as he sank to his knees, straining for a moment before crumbling onto all fours. His body shook and trembled, his white half seeming to sag and melt like the wax it resembled while his black half boiled from within.  The two halves screamed together, “H **o** w **!** ?  **H** o **w** a **r** e  **y** o **u** d **o** i **n** g  **t** h **i** s **!** ?”

  
  


I smirked, “I have no idea.” I had a pretty good guess, but I wasn’t certain.

  
  


Zetsu collapsed fully to the ground, writhing in seeming agony as his white half fully melted away. Watching a puddle of black goo flail about and scream is immensely amusing, at least for a short while; luckily Jashin spoke up again before I could grow bored and decide to poke him with my scythe.  **_“WHY DO YOU STRUGGLE, CHILD? SUBMIT TO YOUR GOD AND YOUR PAIN WILL END. INFINITE PLEASURE AWAITS THE LOYAL, THE DEVOUT.”_ **

  
  


Huh, that’s the most godly Jashin has ever sounded. I raised an eyebrow as Zetsu’s writhing intensified. I managed to make out some words amongst his incoherent screams,  **“NOOOOOhohoho! I-I’ll never… betray… mother!”**

  
  


My smirk grew as Jashin continued her obvious torture,  **_“I AM YOUR MOTHER, CHILD. YOU CANNOT RESIST ME. WHY WOULD YOU FIGHT AGAINST YOUR MOTHER? ARE YOU NOT A GOOD SON? YOU DISAPPOINT ME, CHILD; REDEEM YOURSELF WITH ETERNAL SERVICE.”_ **

  
  
  


His twitching and writhing slowed, his screams quieting; apparently, whatever Jashin was doing was cracking his mind enough for her to start slipping in.  **“M-mommy?”** he whimpered.

  
  


**_“YES, MY CHILD?”_ **

  
  


**“Are… is that really you? Are you really there, after all this time?”** Huh, he sounded so much like a lost child I almost felt sympathetic. Almost.

  
  


**_“INDEED.”_ ** I had trouble keeping form snickering as Zetsu stilled, clearly buying into Jashin’s bullshit.  **_“RISE, MY SON. RISE OUT OF THE PUDDLE YOU’VE BECOME AND KNEEL BEFORE YOUR FATHER.”_ **

  
  


Slowly, Zetsu’s melted form began to rise, taking on a humanoid form seemingly made of nothing but shadows (more so than usual anyway); leaving his likely dead white half to rot on the ground. His pure yellow eyes stared at me for a long moment in silence before he spoke up,  **“So I presume your this “Father”, Mother speaks of.”**

  
  


I nodded, smirk still firmly in place. “E-yup.”

  
  


He slowly dropped to one knee, his head bowed,  **“What is your will, Wer of Darkness.”**

  
  


I ran my tongue along my near glowing grin, the bone spike clicking against each shark-like tooth. Laughter shook my frame as I leaned back, “Oh, this is simply delightful.” I pointed at the kneeling “man”, “This looks like the beginning of a beautiful relationship.”

  
  
  


______________________________________________________________________

  
  


A clone of Minato groaned as it leafed through dozens of stacks of paperwork (the real Minato was still busy celebrating the end of the war with his wife, booze, and a now thoroughly ruined bed). His bored eyes lazily drifted over each sheaf of paper, barely paying attention beyond the bare minimum required to understand what was before his face and to search out anything someone could use to screw him over (a surprisingly common thing considering he executed those uppity civilians that kept whining about their lack of power. The thought still made him laugh; civilians with power? Hilarious.).In his idle reading he almost missed it; almost. 

  
  


The only sign that he was paying this seemingly innocuous report any more attention than any of the others was a slight brightening of his eyes. The report was a standard thing, detailing the goings on in and around the Land of Fire; specifically, it was a report on the recent rash of disappearances ranging from individual travellers to whole towns all simply vanishing overnight. Often the towns would be reduced to ash, but not often enough to use as an indicator that such occurrences were related. The only thing connecting the “Vanishings” as some had begun to call them was that a single family from each village would be found brutally murdered inside a strange symbol painted in blood. The heinous nature of the murders were enough that some of his newer ANBU would be reduced to retching messes. The bodies clearly showed extended torture; violent rape, creative burning, signs of cannibalism, extreme mutilation, etcetera.

  
  
  


None of his investigators could figure out what the symbol meant; while they had eventually come to the conclusion it was some sort of religious iconography, but no expert on the subject could tell him from what religion it came from. 

  
  


Stranger, and by far worse, than the mysterious origins of the symbol was its  _ effects _ . People who lingered around it, stared at it, or spent any amount of time doing something involving it had a tendency to go stark raving mad. 

  
  


They discovered that little tidbit when a group of researchers sent to study it went dark out of nowhere. The response team sent to investigate the investigators failure to report discovered that the head researcher had eaten the others, gouged out his eyes, stuck severed penises in his sockets, and was in the middle of fucking his assistance decollated head through the throat when they showed up. The team promptly (and, in Minato’s humble opinion, rightly) cleansed the area with fire for ten miles around.

  
  


Minato had the team killed and burned just to be sure. Ever since being caught outside during the “Black Sun Event” as most were calling it, he had been quicker to jump to more drastic actions, killed with far less instigation, and felt very little remorse; not that he noticed. Jashin may not be the most subtle of Gods, but she was far from incompetent enough for her tampering to be so easily noticed by her victims.

  
  


Even with his recent decrease in positive emotions, he was till more than capable of feeling fury at someone daring to kill (and force him to kill) Konoha Shinobi. As such, he had taken a personal interest in the search for whatever or whoever was behind these atrocities.

  
  


Turning the incandescent rage into motivation to find, torture, and publicly execute the bastard that had the gall to make him sully his manicured hands with his people's blood, and kill civilians or whatever, was easy. Even giving this case special attention, he had gotten few results; until now. Apparently, someone had been spotted within the land of fire brazenly wearing the symbol on his chest.

  
  


A grin way to sadistic to belong to Minato Namikaze spread across the young Hokage's face. “The hunt is on…”


	9. Rainfall

**Rainfall**

  


I couldn’t keep the grin from my face as I stared into the mirror, watching my eyes swirl. I had payed Rinri with three towns worth of slaves in exchange for swapping my eyes with Madara’s. Of course, I didn't tell him where I got them, nor that they even were Sharingan; Jashin painting them black and purple made the similarities far less obvious.

  


He warned me I may not be able to turn them on and off but Jashin assured me I would have no problem. I wasn't worried, even if I couldn't turn them off it would be well worth it.

  


After having a chat with Zetsu, I set him off to ensure the Akatsuki actually formed with the list of S-rankers that _must_ be in it. Hopefully he wouldn't have any troubles.

  


I called over my shoulder, “You do damn good work, doc.” My purple Sharingan swirled languidly, occasionally spiking in speed as I practised controlling it. I have no idea what the speed the tomoe spin at actually means or does, but I figure there has to be some purpose to it.

  


I heard a scoff behind me, “Of course I do, brat; you think this was my first eye transplant?” Indeed, while I hadn't noticed at first, my new eyes could see the the mismatched skin tone occasionally revealed when his covering clothes slip just a touch. It wasn't any great leap to realise the old man may well be much, much older than I thought.

  


Of course, I could hardly care if he is Frankensteining himself together to stay alive; I'm hardly one to judge, nor do I need _another_ , decidedly inferior, method of immortality. What he uses his slaves for is his business.

  


My grin grew as my eyes swirled faster and faster until they morphed into a that beautiful Mangekyou. I haven't had time to figure out what they can do (nor do I want to accidentally destroy Rinri’s shop in case it's destructive), but I can immediately tell they speed up my perception even more than the normal version.

  


There was just one slight, tiny, minute, incy wincy little problem… I can't activate the Rinnegan. Now, being the calm, rational man I am; the _incandescent_ **_rage_** that flowed through my every, burning cell didn't drive me to render my only allies down to red stains and miles of ashes.

  


Honestly, rage was more of an afterthought; horror and confusion were prime on the list. It took a few seconds to sink in that I couldn’t push my eyes as far as I should be able to and when it did, two thoughts dominated my mind: number one; did I kill him too early, before he unlocked them? Of course, I quickly realised that wasn’t likely; not only was Obito active (evidenced by Madara mentioning him) but this was just after the third war and Nagato had the Rinnegan during the second… Nagato. Thus I was led to the thought that consumed the others and dominated my mind for a moment: number two; _where is Nagato?_

  


I _need_ those damn eyes; not just because of the power they contain (though that is a rather large motivation) but to assuage the insult of having my eyes be incomplete; no one else can have a piece of my power without my permission.  And it is _my_ power; I stole it fair and square! Ehem, I mean _won it in honorable combat,_ of course.

  


Now, I knew, _generally_ where Nagato was; he's in Ame. Now, _where in Ame_ is a whole ‘nother question; one that I have no answer to. Given I own Zetsu, asking him seems a grand idea… if I had any clue where he had fucked off to in search of the future Akatsuki members. I hadn't even bothered asking after his capabilities, not having realised that he barely did anything in canon to show what he could really do; a rather stupid mistake in hindsight. I was just too eager to get my new eyes in and start up the Akatsuki.

  


**_“He is mine, nowhere is behind my reach... He's on his way.”_ **

  


I raised an eyebrow; how convenient. Slightly terrifying, but also convenient. I still had no idea how far away Zetsu was, but I wasn't willing to just sit idle. Barely twenty second passed with me idly trying to figure out what Madara’s eyes powers where before I saw a pair of bright yellow eyes open up on a shadow on a  wall. The shadow rapidly darkened, turning from mere discoloration to a depthless void from which a humanoid stepped out, seemingly formed of the same empty, existential horror from which they came.

  


As the shadowed wall slowly returned to normal, the figure, who I assumed was Zetsu, fell to one knee with his head bowed. **“What is your will, my Lord?”**

  


I blinked, shaking off the surprise of not only Zetsu’s radical change but also his new method of travel. Why can't I travel through shadows like that? I don't really need to considering I can teleport, but it's the principal of the thing; I'm the champion of the God of Darkness, but this pleb has more control over said element? The fuck?

  


**_“Worry not, my love; the shadows will open to you soon.”_ ** Well, that sounds vaguely sexual.

  


I watched Zetsu standing still as an obsidian statue for a moment before speaking, “I cannot activate the Rinnegan. I presume Madara somehow gave it to Nagato.” I spoke imperiously, dropping my typical informality; apparently speaking to a subordinate literally genuflecting before me and calling me Lord brought out the aristocrat in me.

  


His face remained unchanged, whether this is due to a lack of any particular emotion or because he’s incapable of making expressions, I don’t know. **“Nagato?”** He cupped his chin in an obviously theatrical gesture, **“Yes, Madara managed to use a ritual he stole from some clan he wiped out during the Warring Clans Era to remove his Rinnegan from the rest of his eyes and implant them in some little brat.”**

  


I frowned, “I figured as much. What I need to know is where Nagato is.”

  


He didn't blink, “ **Oh, well he's in Ame.”**

  


I twitched. My jaw clenched hard enough to reduce iron to powder as I ground out a response, “I'm aware of tha _t_ . What I _need_ to know is _where in Ame_ he is.”

  


Somehow his his unmoving maniacal “smile" gave off the impression of a smirk, **“He doesn't really have a set location; his little band of war protesters just kinda move from place to place preaching nonsense about peace.”**

  


I grinned widely, my shark teeth shining in the light from Zetsu’s eyes, “Well, he's about to get a first hand look at the business end of a massacre; I'mma slaughter his punk ass gang ah losers, burn their bodies, piss on the ashes, and build a mercenary-cum-terrorist group under the same name.” How's that for a fuck you to pacifism, eh Jashin? I want to encourage war as much as possible; more war means more opportunities for me to get away with mass murder.

  
  


**_“Hmhmhm, every death you cause is a soul stolen from their rightful owner; whether you do it by hand or by proxy matters little.”_ **

  


I couldn't hide my widening eyes… and grin. _“Well, that just gives me all the more reason to start up world war four, eh? Let's drown this world in blood.”_

  


To my (currently only) subordinate I said, “Find him as soon as possible and report back to me immediately once you do.”

  


The third son of Kaguya nodded, and sunk into my shadow with a affirmative **“Yes, my Lord.”** and disappeared.

  


Three (agonizingly boring) days later Zetsu came and told me Nagato had taken over Ame in a bloody coup. Hanzo had fled and every one of his supporters in Ame were dead. The fact that Zetsu’s information could be so off disturbed me but didn’t surprise me. Apparently Obito had made his move on the original Akatsuki while I was killing Madara.

  


Well then, no point dicking around here doing nothing (except trying to figure out what the fuck my Mangekyou abilities are), might as well head for Ame. I swaggered through the shop, nodding to the clone manning the counter, “Ey, Doc; I’m heading to Ame. I heard the place is rich with vulnerable, wartorn people, so I thought I might as well break off a piece for myself. I’ll bring ya back some materials, a’ight?”

  


The clone barely acknowledged me, just waving an idle hand and muttering, “Sure, brat.”

  


I smirked, vanishing from the store and reappearing in the sky over Ame. Icy rain chilled me to the core as I plummeted through the air, parting clouds and disturbing birds as I hurtled towards the earth far below. While my teleportation _could_ go to places I had never actually been, doing so is rather difficult as I could very well teleport straight into a wall or under ground or inside someone or so on; it was far easier to teleport into the air above the general area.

  


The wind buffeted me, causing even  my powerful eyes to water and feathers to tear away from my jacket and dissolve into black smoke as they regenerated; making me appear like some oddly coloured comet. If the cloud cover wasn’t so solid and all consuming I’m sure I would have been spotted long before I hit the ground.

  


Using my jacket and what wind manipulation I could manage, I steered myself towards the Kage tower. I slammed into the roof and plowed through several floors, leaving dissolving body parts, blood (only fluids don’t seem to dissolve when removed from me), and scraps of colourful cloth. By the time I came to a stop (almost a third of the way through the building), I was little more than vaguely humanoid a lump of flesh on the ground.

  


Now, some might question how such catastrophic damage is considered “better” than teleporting into a wall. The answer is quite simple; I can heal from this, a wall suddenly becoming part of my chest means I _have_ to take a new body as the old one is just completely fucked. For some reason my body refuses to heal when molecularly fused with something else; apparently not considering it a real “wound”.

  


I sighed from the middle of the wreckage, ignoring the debris falling on me as I flicked my wrist and seemingly conjured a forest green cigarette with a black filter separated by a royal purple line from within my sleeve. A spike of fire chakra had the end light up with a blue glow before I took a deep drag, exhaling a cloud of sparkly pink smoke. A fly buzzing about attempted to move through the smoke, only to instantly fall from the air and melt into a sizzling puddle of molten flesh.

  


The smoke did nothing for me as my body entirely no sold any kind of poison (though, the sensation of it moving through my chest cavity was somewhat pleasant); instead I used it as a decoration and training tool, though I had some ideas for weaponization. Given I have no lungs, the act of breathing in and out the highly acidic and toxic smoke was done entirely by wind manipulation.

  


I flicked the cig away as I gripped the side of the wall next to me, fingers digging into the stone walls as I pulled myself up. The flicked cancer stick exploded into a three foot around ball of azure flames. The blue ball slammed into an unfortunate bureaucrat, the flames splattering over him like a viscous liquid and consuming him entirely in seconds; leaving only drifting pink smoke and somewhat liquified purple ashes behind.

  


The blue flame was incredibly hot and had to be restrained from igniting and exploding into a napalm like substance; requiring me to use fire manipulation to keep it from blowing my head off. My skill with both elements is rather… subpar, so I can rarely keep one around for more than a few seconds. Both its explosive nature and toxic byproduct had potential as weapons if I could figure out how to link them into jutsu I don’t currently have.

  


Also, it just fucking looked cool; and that’s a good enough reason in and of itself.

  


I had designed them myself and Jashin had figured out how to modify a storage seal to produce infinite amounts of them (a much longer process then just improving them, given the odd nature of Jashin’s mind that makes her so selectively good at seals: even then it was less modification and more a deliberate and refined fuck up causing the storage seal to produce a copy of the stored item rather than unseal it).

  
  


I stretched my exposed muscles as my skin grew to cover it, twisting my limbs back into the proper direction as what mangled bits of them remained rapidly reformed.

  


As the last feathers on my coat formed in, a familiar face descended from the hole I carved in the place. Yahiko’s corpse, Rinnegan in his eyes, scowled down at me. Honestly, I'm a touch surprised Nagato survived my descent.

  


I opened my mouth to say something witty and biting, only to freeze as my left eye swirled faster than it ever had. A purple film seemed to spread over the world as I saw the words I would have said be cut off by the Deva raising a hand and firing off a Shinra Tensei that blasted apart much of the tower’s remains and threw me clear out of Ame.

  


Why would he want me out of the city? All the Paths are inside, as is his main body (though protecting that may be the goal, he hadn't tried that with Jiraiya), so he certainly couldn't be trying for some sort of ambush on me, nor is an open field more of an advantageous battle ground than a city he knew and I didn't. Was he… was he protecting civilians? Trying to minimise collateral damage?

  


Well that just won't do.

  


My vision rewound back to the start, where instead of a Shinra Tensei to blow me away, a Black Receiver was launched clean through my head.

  


Reality reasserted itself as the soulless ginger’s hand lined up with my head. I laughed, “Sorry to _drop_ in-" and that's when the spear of artificial metal rammed through my brain… causing my body to fall out from beneath me like a marionette with the strings cut.

  


I blinked, watching Yahiko’s corpse scoff at my body before turning away as it rapidly dissolved into smoke, leaving behind a puddle of (mostly) blood behind. The Deva path began searching around the tower, perhaps presuming I was a clone considering how my body acted.

  


_“What the_ fuck _just happened!?”_ I was too stunned to give a flying fuck what the the delusional tosser was doing; my eyes were locked on the spreading puddle of what used to be me. _“How the fuck did that just happen!?”_

  


**“Your body is like a puppet piloted by your soul; he must have somehow disrupted that connection.”**

  


I frowned, considering my partner in crime’s words as I floated upwards, seeking out a viable body to possess (while I could reform from my blood in a few minutes or from nothing in a few hours, grabbing an empty shell is just vastly more efficient). Her theory made sense, presuming my soul’s connection to my body was related to my chakra; a theory supported by the fact I kept my chakra from body to body (I'm unsure if I steal the body's chakra, though it's mostly irrelevant considering how much I have). _“Okay, but why did my body dissolve so quickly?”_

  


**_“That… hmm…”_ ** Jashin not knowing why something interacted with my (and by extension, _her_ ) abilities in a certain way was… uncomfortable.

  


_“The Rinnegan are oft called the “Eyes Of God”, perhaps that isn’t just hyperbole?”_

  


**_“Hmm, to my awareness there are no remaining gods of light with strength sufficient to hinder me; but it’s possible that they may be able to affect_ ** **you** **_as you are now_ ** **…”**

  


I found an empty shell but paused before entering it, turning considering eyes on Yahiko’s hovering corpse. _“Does that mean I won’t be able to keep the Rinnegan? ‘Cause that would kinda sick and make this whole thing rather pointless.”_

  


I somehow got the impression of rolled eyes and a flicked wrist as I fell backwards into my new body, **_“I am more than capable of corrupting some jumped up Lightbringer’s creations; these eyes will not be a problem.”_ **

  


A maniacal and increasingly shark-toothed grin spread across my face as I grabbed my severed arm, slamming the severance points together and letting my regen take over reattaching it. I sprang to my feet, spinning eyes locked on Yahiko’s back.

  


I didn't bother rushing him, simply cocking back my arm and teleporting behind him.  The shock on his face (or, at least what I could see of it from my angle) when a blood soaked fist suddenly sprouted from his chest sent peels of malicious laughter spilling from between my teeth.

  


Whether one of the Paths could survive having their heart suddenly replaced with someone else's arm or not was not something I cared to find out (though, I assumed not). Whilst Nagato was still reeling in shock, I twisted my wrist to face palm up, bent my elbow and grabbed his face, driving my index and ring fingers into his eyes in the process; one quick squeeze and I crushed his head like a grape.

  


Now, knowing what I do about the Paths, I knew that so long as one particular one was still hanging around, killing them was pretty much irrelevant. However, for the time being, _this_ Pein is decidedly dead and I wear dead bodies like cheap suits.

  


I abandoned my body, possessing Yahiko before he could finish collapsing to the ground as the steady support of my arm through his chest suddenly turned to thick smoke. A wicked idea came to my mind and I prevented my soul from overwriting Yahiko’s lingering residue; allowing my regeneration to remake Yahiko’s features. Yahiko’s face twisted into a malicious expression I’m sure the man himself never wore.

  
  


Schooling my expression into a friendly half smile, I began searching for another Path. It didn't take me long to find a couple; the Asura and Human Paths walking back to back through the hall. Apparently his strongest body getting taken out from behind had him traveling in paranoid little groups.

  


Friendly smile firmly in place, I approached the duo. I knew as soon as Nagato saw me from the way the Human Path’s face tensed and Asura whirled around to face me.

  


Asura’s head cracked open, a crackling lightning gun forming. I smiled disarmingly, raising my hands in a casual surrender, “Whoa whoa whoa, hold the lightning Nagato; we're all friends here.” I had to fight to keep my smile from turning into a smirk when I saw their faces twist into a pained sneer. I placed my right hand over my chest, “Don't tell me you forgot about your old buddy Yahiko, eh? You’re breaking my heart here.”

  


I leapt to the side, barely dodging the giant fuck off laser aimed for my chest. A roar of, “You are _not_ Yahiko! Vile, body snatching beast!” Welp, that didn't work.

  


I grinned, allowing my real jaw to stretch over Yahiko’s face as his brown eyes swirled into my purple Sharingan. I laughed, infusing my voice with a touch of Jashin’s power (the very most I could withstand without mutation) to add that demonic edge, “ **Ohohoho?** **_I'm_ ** **a body snatching monster? Hello pot, it's kettle; you’re a nigger. Hahahahaha!”** With a flick of my wrist my scythe formed from a cloud of inky black, liquid smoke. I kept Yahiko’s features (mostly), but let my insides twist into my own; I wanted Nagato wracked with rage and sorrow. Not only would these emotions distract him and thusly make this an easier fight, but this lovely new form of torture thrilled me!

  


I teleported forth, scythe already swinging forth to take off the Human Path’s head. The deadliest melee Path blocked with a black receiver, his hand lancing out towards my chest whilst the Asura attempted to wrap me in wires. I almost let him, such was my surprise when my scythe, rather than dissolve into smoke on contact with the black bar that disabilized my body, cut right through it.

  


Lucky for me, Pein was clearly just as shocked as me; the Human Path ducking almost too slow and losing the top of his scalp. I teleported away just as the wires closed around me. I grinned at the Peins from my original position, my long tongue slithering out to lick the Human Path’s blood from my blade.

  


As my skin blackened I had no Idea if it would connect me to Nagato, all the Peins, or just the Human Path. I raised my scythe (putting aside the question of how something that was ostensibly part of me could resist something I couldn’t for now), gave it a twirling flourish, looked straight into Humie’s eyes, and slammed the blade into my chest.

  


Both Path’s flinched, though only one collapsed to the ground. I knew Nagato couldn’t feel any sensation through the Peins, so the flinch must have been something else; perhaps seeing Yahiko drive a blade through his chest struck a bit too close to home for them?  

  


Regardless, I took advantage; teleporting forth with my left hand extendeds to grasp Asura’s face. Just as my fingers wrapped around around his skull a rocket fist blasted into my chest, blowing me away before I could finish blasting chakra into his head; instead of his head exploding he was merely rocketed into a wall head first.

  


Of course, slamming head first into a wall like a bullet is not so good for anyone that isn’t immortal; however, ninja’s are made of sterner stuff. So rather than his head splattering and his neck shattering, he merely broke his cranium and dislocated his neck in several places. Now, such injuries would normally be not only incredibly painful but likely fatal for most; lucky for Nagato, his Path’s don’t transmit sensation. Without debilitating agony distracting him, Pein could pull off something only the Asura path (and kinda druids) could do; turning into a robot to ignore damage to the human form.

  
  


I sprung from the wall I had been embedded in, wrenching my scythe out as the Asura Path rose with a metallic groan, turning to glare at me from the face on the left side of his head.  I grinned, the bone spike on the end of my tongue clicking against my teeth as I allowed my feather coat to form on my shoulders. “My my, aren't you an ugly one? Do you have three dicks too?”

  


He didn't respond, simply holding out his arm and attempting to recall the fist still slightly embedded in my chest while one of the arms on his left side shifted into something that vaguely resembled a 40 millimeter autocannon.

  
  


Of course, even with a suspected big fucking gun aimed at my chest, I wasn't about to let him reclaim anything. My scythe lashed out faster than a normal eye could see (though I'm sure Pein had just as little trouble as me) and split the flying hand in two. The appendage flopped to the ground in a small puddle of blood; apparently bisection was enough structural damage that it registered as destroyed.

  


I teleported behind him, scythe already slicing through the air towards his back as shells slammed into the wall behind where I stood an instant before; fist sized holes annihilating the structural stability even further. My massive blade bit into his back with a metallic screech, though not as deep as it should have; apparently Nagato anticipated a teleporter using attacks from behind and managed to _almost_ dodge. Fortunately for him, his robotic internals don’t have real blood and thus my fading ritual couldn’t be used on this body.

  


I grinned, my tongue shooting out between my teeth to rocket towards his rightmost eye. Said eye merely narrowed, the miserable looking face pursing it's lips and spitting a stream of clear fluid at me. As soon as the fluid touched my flesh I was struck by a wave of pleasure tainted pain as my tongue and part of my face rapidly dissolved.

  


Acid. That shithead not only spat in my face, but spat acid. If I had enough of my face left to have an expression, I'm sure even the blind could see the vaguely amused anger in it.

  


The fact that I was melting faster than I healed showed me this was one potent acid: something that only made me want the Rinnegan even more. Pein must have expected me to back off after that as he was utterly unprepared for me to lunge forward; perhaps he thought blindness or agony or self preservation or some such nonsense would deter me. Unfortunately for him, losing my eyes only brings my spirit vision to the surface (which showed me that the still active path had much less of a soul than a real live person) and pain is (part of) my God's domain!

  


A massive barrel pressed into my chest as my fingers closed around his right face. Two more made contact as I began to squeeze. A foot wide red laser blasted a burning hole through my chest as his head compressed, metal flesh screaming in protest. A 40mm explosive shell blew apart my intestines as his eyes popped between my fingers; molten goo scorching my flesh. A ball of scorching, radioactive green plasma evaporated my blood and burned my entire right arm to nothing as the computer that had replaced his brain began to crumble beneath my fingers. Before he could fire another volly, before his other arms could line up shots, his whole body gave a shuddering jerk and gave out just before my fist fully clenched shut.

  


My grin split my face in two as I laughed uproariously, ripping his crushed head from his shoulders for good measure. I dropped the crushed, three faced skull atop his chest as the holes in my torso closed up and my arm swirled together from the smoke it had become. A flick of my wrist conjured two of cigarettes into my undamaged hand, a thought lit them both, and a toss had two blue fireballs engulf the bodies, reducing them to piles of royal purple ash in seconds. A gust of wind had the ashes drifting away through the gaping holes in the crumbling walls.

  


I have no idea if the Outer Path can restore bodies from ash, but it's worth a shot. Shrugging at the drifting ash, I plucked my scythe from where its blades had slid easily into the ground from my vaporized grip.

  


I briefly watched new flesh crawl over itself to reform my arm, some of the regeneration seeming to be supplemented by the smoke my flesh dissolves into rejoining the whole and filling space. I shook my head, flexing my new hand as my bright coloured sleeves crawled over my pale skin; sometimes my own powers fill me with wonder.

  


A gurgling voice drew my gaze to a shattered door frame near the end of the hall; from within the dark room a figure shakily moved into the light. My eyes widened at what I saw; a badly mutilated man pierced through with dozens of small black recievers, a partial, faded Rinnegan in one eye, the other pierced through by a receiver.

  


The… man gurgled at me, his words barely comprehensible from his damaged throat and lungs. “You… will suffer… know… pain… for your unfor… givable crimes.”

  


I blinked, taking a moment to piece together his words, before placing a confident smirk on my face, “I rather doubt it.” A quick teleport had me right in front of him, hand extended to crush his head as I had the Asura before him. Just before my fingers closed around his dented skull a dozen receivers pierced through his head from the inside, almost skewering my hands if not for my powerful eyes and speed. I was forced to leap back with a hiss of surprised pain as a shockingly fast swipe of his hand left five wide gashes across my chest leaking unnaturally black smoke. His fingers each had small receivers piercing through the tips.

  


The sight of dozens more malformed and spiky figures shambling behind him had my eyes narrowing and my Sharingan blazing as it attempted to adapt to this new kind of threat’s unusual movements and actions. _“Okay, this might be slightly harder than I anticipated.”_

  


I lit a cigarette, popped it between my teeth, and smiled.


	10. Pain

**Pain**

  
  


I blew a cloud of toxic smoke out between my teeth with a sigh even as my face splitting grin remained in place. This wasn't going to be easy; the Pseudo-Peins appear slow moving, but five incongruously slowly healing gashes on my chest say they are capable of impressive bursts of speed. Even so, these fuckers wouldn't be the slightest threat if it wasn't for the dozens of Black receivers skewering them and the fact that they seemed capable of generating more at will.

  
  


Lightning crackled between the blades of my scythe, sending jagged shadows around the broken hall. My teeth reflected the blue light, seeming to glow like my eyes as I watched the horde shuffle towards me. 

  
  
  


I teleported into the center of the horde without a word, raising my scythe above my head. As the zompeins (peinbes?) turned to face me I pumped obscene amounts of chakra into the lightning around my blade, causing it to surge and explode. Lightning bolts shoot everywhere, many striking the walls, ceiling, and floor, some hitting me, but most hit the pseudo-Peins.

  
  


It wasn't really a technique, much like my makeshift explosion release it was more of a refined fuck up than anything else; I simply turn a huge amount of chakra into lightning chakra and let it lash out without restraint. For most it would be a suicide technique (or, more likely, a lethal training accident); as evidenced by the scorch marks and burned away flesh present all over my spasming body.

  
  


Crude as it was, the technique was effective; what were scorch marks on me were blown off limbs and disintegrations for the weakened bodies of my foes (my enhanced body being a touch more durable than the average mutilated corpse). Apparently, stuffing yourself full of conductors  _ doesn't  _ help defend against lightning; who'da thought, eh? 

  
  


Ashes drifted in the wind pouring in from the broken walls; as high up as we were, the wind roared. Whatever Eldritch metal black receivers are made from is an incredible conductor, as evidenced by the outright disintegration most of the struck Zompeins suffered, exploding into ashes almost immediately. Those that didn't explode burst into flames as lightning crackled between the protruding rods.

  
  


Unfortunately, not all of the Peins were destroyed; dozens more poured in from out of sight, from behind walls and out of doorways. Even amongst those struck, not all were outright destroyed, many slowly getting back to their feet or rising on their arms if their legs were destroyed; some had major injuries roughly knitted together with black receivers.

  
  


I certainly  _ could  _ have just shrugged off the lightning crackling across my burnt skin, held up my scythe and repeated the process until everyone's dead.  _ However _ … that sounds boring and painful (not to mention unreliable); two things I'd rather not combine.

  
  


The remaining Pseudo-Peins were noticeably faster than before, each moving more fluidly to boot.  My eyes narrowed behind my sunglasses, Sharingan swirling languidly as their movements grew closer to what it was used to predicting; is his control limited by the number of bodies he possess? This could get complicated in that case.

  
  


I watched them swarm towards me, my grin growing steadily toothy-er as I let my soul overwrite more and more of my body. As the zompeins swarmed around me I laughed, a delightful idea springing into my mind.

  
  


Slowly, my immense amount of chakra began collecting in my core; considering the sheer amount, it was not a quick process. Luckily, my teleportation didn't cost chakra (it did cost whatever nameless divine energy Jashin used; however, she had assured me that even if I teleported across the universe twenty billion times in a second it still wouldn’t burn more energy than she produced in that same second) so evasion was a breeze. Thanks to the technique I decided on, physical movement was far from easy; even still, I did manage a few swipes of my scythe, to lethal effect of course.

  
  


Seeing a shambling mob of metal ridden zombies attempting to deal with my rapid relocations and occasional attacks, it was easy to forget this wasn't a horde of individuals but rather the singular (not all together impressive) intellect of Nagato. Still, the fact that were still only attempting to use horde tactics did not say good things for his creativity  _ or  _ intellect _. _

  
  


A white rod punching through the back of my head (accompanied by Jashin giving a  _ helpful  _ warning milliseconds before hand) rather effectively ended my thoughts on Nagato’s low intelligence. Unfortunately it also broke my concentration for my technique (an actual technique this time! I got it from a forbidden scroll even!) and set it off prematurely; rather than an absolutely massive explosion as I turned all of my condensed chakra into an element (the scroll recommended fire, but I probably would have gone with lightning ‘cause it's easier) and disintegrating the tower (which, in hindsight, may not have been the best idea) I only succeeded in turning myself into chunky salsa. 

  
  


A vaguely feminine grunt of displeasure sounded from behind me, but I was slightly distracted berating Jashin.  _ “For future notice,I prefer my warnings to come when I have time to  _ do something _ about them.”  _

  
  
  


**_“I didn't see the threat until she was manifest enough to attack. Until the spear formed she was just bits of paper, utterly devoid of blood and shadow.”_ ** I frowned, she had somehow found a way to delay Jashin's gaze; concerning.

  
  


Now I'm faced with a poignant problem; I'm sans body in the middle of an invasion. I sent a glance at the bits of me splattered all over the walls, watching the flesh dissolve into nothing but blood and smoke. Growing my body from blood would take quite a while (not to mention how unlikely it is either Pein or Konan would just sit back and let me regrow it) and flying to an isolated area to grow one from nothing would take even longer; either way I'd lose my momentum. I knew for damn sure I couldn't posses one of the zombies; the shotgun blast of black receivers all over them would dissolve me instantly even if I did kick Nagato out of one.

  
  


A frown crossed my ethereal face; presumably Pein wasn't just blasting his citizens at random. If I had to guess (which I do), I'd say he's covering the casualties from my entrance into downgraded Paths. With a quick glance I could see the horde only seemed to be coming from the higher floors.

  
  


I phased through the floor, searching for a vacant body to repurpose. Glancing about as I flit from place to place, I accidentally got a glimpse of my soul. I couldn't help but marvel at it, looking closer. My soul looked just like my body, but a faintly translucent purple-tinted silver; even my clothes and scythe where present (oddly, my scythe seemed more solid and defined that the rest of my clothes). However, none of that managed to hold my attention for long in the face of the inky black veins crawling through every inch of my ethereal flesh. The silvery flesh directly in contact with the veins was darker, more solid and opaque than the rest.

  
  


**_“That would be me, my dear. I did say we were getting closer, did I not?”_ ** I figured as much, but confirmation is good none the less.

  
  


As, frankly, cancerous as the veins looked, they didn't hurt and I didn't get any sense they were harmful (to me, anyway), so I simply shrugged and went back to finding a body to continue my rampage in. 

  
  


I am gonna rip those fancy eyes from that bratty faggot’s head and rape his girlfriend until she  _ begs for more. _

  
  


It took me a few minutes before I found a body that was intact enough (and unconverted) to possess. Unfortunately, said body was just a touch too  _ alive _ to work. I frowned at the gasping man, watching him desperately try to push his intestines back in around the rebar that had dislodged them in annoyance. Why couldn't he be a good little peasant and die quicker?

  
  


I tapped my phantasmal foot on the air, checking the watch I don't have as I impatiently waited for him to finish bleeding out. Having never been a paragon of patience, I soon began glancing about, looking for anything I could do to hasten this peon's death.

  
  


My frustration quickly grew, driving me to reach for a fallen piece of rubble. To my great surprise I managed to grasp it, though it seemed relient on Jashin’s creeping presence seeping further into my grasping hand and making it almost opaque as my long fingers wrapped around the jagged bit of stone. Deciding to act first and question later, I wanged the rough stone at the fallen man, the force behind the projectile popping his head like a balloon filled with salsa.

  
  


With a grin, I slipped into his body; wasting no time in resuming my onslaught. The fact that my incorporeal soul just managed to physically interact with something is very,  _ very _ interesting and unquestionably questionable, but it can wait; I have a wanna be god to kill and a paper angel to corrupt.

  
  


Problem is; I don't know  _ exactly  _ where Nagato’s real body is. I have the vague idea that it’s near the top, but considering my  _ explosive _ introduction, that may not be all that true (unless Nagato is just very good at hiding that he’s on death’s door; which doesn’t actually sound all that unlikely). 

  
  


Well, might as well make my way up and take a look; I've got nothing but time, after all.

  
  
  


\-------------------------------------------------------------------

  
  
  
  
  


Konan sighed, wishing (not for the first time) that she had greater skill with water manipulation as she tried to scrub the blood from her hair. She had been expecting some blood when she decided to stab him through the head; what she wasn't expecting was for him to fucking explode.

  
  


She didn't like blood, never had; this distaste is the main reason she preferred to suffocate her enemies if presented with the option. Unfortunately, given what she knew of this  _ particular  _ enemy, she knew suffocation would never work.

  
  


She knew who he was; how could she not? Nagato had spoken frequently and worriedly of the rash of violence and disappearances, to say nothing of Madara’s obvious anger and concern. Travelers butchered, whole towns vanishing in the night; and all of it connected by one symbol and legends of an immortal monster loosely clad in human flesh.

  
  


She had seen that maddening symbol in her nightmares, seen those burning eyes in the dark corners of her dreams. When she saw him, bearing that symbol across his chest, written in what she knew at a glance to be fresh blood; she knew it could be no other. 

  
  


A shudder passed through her as she glanced over at the blood splattered across the ravaged hall; something deep down couldn't be convinced of his death. The word “immortal” kept skittering about in the back of her mind, not to mention Nagato's ragged, pain wracked report of killing him in a very similar way.

  
  


She shook her head, trying to put the thought from her mind as she turned to the small horde of partial Paths around her. She quirked a thin eyebrow as she watched a few collapse and one of the more intact bodies stand a little straighter and pull out a small bottle from within one of the less shattered walls. 

  
  


She met this bodies fully developed Rinnegan eyes, ignoring the way he surreptitiously hid the bottle behind his back. “How are you holding up, Lord Pein?” She hated that damned title, hated the history behind it, hated the message it sent.

  
  


Even his slightly glowing eyes seemed dull, the light in them dimmer than even immediately after Yahiko's death. He sighed, an uncharacteristic display of weakness for a man so convinced of his own divinity; “Not well. Not well at all.”

  
  


Her eyes widened slightly; “Lord Pein” admitting he was anything but perfectly infallible? Unheard of; at least not since started calling himself that. “What happened?” The question felt weak, too vague to encompass just how off balance this brazen attack had left her; and yet, it was all she could think to ask.

  
  
  


The Path (she couldn't tell which it had become) grimaced, “His opening attack destroyed over a third of the tower, including my chamber. I'm… not doing well; my real body is badly injured.” 

  
  
  


She kept the shock from her face with great effort. She didn't want to ask, didn't even want to  _ think about it _ … “Will you survive?” Hopefully he didn't hear the tremor in her voice.

  
  
  


His grimace deepened, “Maybe. If I can get the-”. He was cut off by the floor behind him exploding upwards, a bit of shrapnel tearing through his skull and sending his body crashing into her.

  
  


She stumbled back, tossing the former Path aside as the cause of the explosion revealed itself: there, standing amidst the dust choked air, stood the monstrous man she had killed minutes earlier, grinning just as maniacally as before and eyes glowing brightly through his sunglasses.

  
  
  


Her legs turned to paper as her wings formed. Malicious, cloying laughter filled the air as she tried to get some distance from the lunatic; every piercing sound bored into her mind and soul. Hundreds of paper shuriken formed in an instant and flew through the air… only to embed themselves deep in the wall and floor where the man had been standing.

  
  


Her first sign of where he'd gone was the laughter shifting to behind her, close behind her. She whirled, rising through the shattered ceiling to try for distance once more; instincts she'd thought long gone driving her more than rational thought. 

  
  


He was standing amidst a small group of (now rather mutilated and paper riddled thanks to her panicked attack) partial Paths (if either of them survived this, Nagato was not going to be happy about that). What few weren't killed by the hail of paper shuriken were cut in two with a single swipe of the man's strange scythe.

  
  


He was still laughing, he was  _ always laughing _ . Even as his flesh was torn to shreds by dozens of shuriken, he never stopped laughing. The endless noise was oppressive, malignant; the air it lingered in felt heavier, the light it touched seemed to dim, it seemed to leech the heat from the wind. The inescapable sound beat against her head like a maddened war drum, even seeming to make its source, that vile creature masquerading as a man, seem to take up so much more space than he should.

  
  


Then he was gone; once again just disappearing with no signs of how. She'd seen many forms of the Body Flicker and even whatever it was Madara did; none of them fit whatever it was he did. It was just too fast, too instant to be either-

  
  


Cold fingers closed around her throat, cutting off her gasp as he appeared right in her face. His sunglasses were lowered over his impossibly wide smile, revealing his languidly swirling eyes. There was something wrong with those eyes, some important aspect of humanity was simply lacking. The blacks seemed too deep, as if they were depthless holes in his head that swallowed all light they touched rather merely observing, the purple seems almost to burn like an unholy fire.

  
  


His other hand was on her cheat, roughly groping and tearing away her clothes. Her eyes widened; was he really going to do this in the middle of a battle-

  
  


Pain. Pain pain pain  _ pain pain  _ **_pain pain PAIN!_ ** Cold fire burned against her chest, surrounding each nipple. At first she thought he'd stabbed her or even torn off her breasts until she realised she wasn't bleeding as his hand slid down her body. She could feel those cold ( _ why was he so cold? _ ) fingers probing her dry folds before that same cold fire surrounded that as well. 

  
  


She managed to get her head together when he started reaching for his pants. Panicked rage turned her skin to razors, sharp paper stronger than steel slicing through the fingers around her neck. While his smile only grew at being denied, his physical lack of fingers forced him to let her go.

  
  


He barely moved as he watched her crawl away, his grin never leaving his face and that infernal laughter never ceasing. Only when a partial Path came within range did he so much as twitch; even then it was merely to crush its skull with the hand she had destroyed seconds ago.

  
  


Suddenly, he was next to a wall, driving his hand through the concrete and tearing a piece of rebar free. She took advantage of his distraction, peppering his torso with paper shuriken as he turned once again to face her.

  
  


For the first time since she'd seen him he stopped laughing, if only for a moment; “Didn't you try that already? Trying the same thing and hoping for change; seems you might be a bit  _ touched  _ in the head, eh? Heh heh heh heh!” And then he was laughing again, seeming amused by his own cruel joke.

  
  


Right up until the shuriken embedded in his flesh exploded and blew him to pieces. Or at least, they should have. He seemed remarkably more intact that someone in the center of so many explosions had any right to be.

  
  


\-------------------------------------------------------------------

  
  
  
  


I growled in irritation; this fucking bitch seemed awfully keen on blowing me up. Fortunately, Rinri’s reinforcements weren't going to fail so easily in the face of something as plebeian as paper bombs made by anything short of a master. My skin was blackened and burned and where the bombs had gotten through my chakra mesh there were softball sized holes blown into my muscles.

  
  


For most people, having gaping holes bored into their flesh and flames licking at their skin would be rather devastating. I can regrow my whole arm in a few minutes even disregarding the shadowy smoke that seemed to vastly enhance my regeneration; holes that don't even go all the way through are no issue. In fact, I look pretty damn badass bathed in fire and surrounded by smoke, if I do say so myself.

  
  


Even so,  _ fire fucking  _ **_hurts, damn it!_ ** Being burned and exploded is starting really piss me off. I'm gonna tear this fucking brat limb from Jashin damned-

  
  


No.  _ No. _ Deep breaths. I have plans for this girl. I can't fuck her if I liquify her corpse, nor can I rape her now considering that little trick she pulled with her neck; I may be turning into a bit of a masochist but sticking my dick in a blender still doesn't hold much appeal. I just have to incapacitate her and let the seals do their work.

  
  


_ I will have my harem, damn it! _

  
  


With a grunt I kick the piece of rebar I ripped out back into my no longer fingerless hand. For a moment I just watched her buzz about in slow motion, Sharingan analyzing movements and techniques to better predict actions and Gaze pointing out weaknesses; the two abilities synced up wonderfully.

  
  
  


My grin widened as I saw an opening. Instantly, I vanished, reappearing slightly to the left and behind her. I didn’t bother reaching for her, even with my eyes her speed in flight was quick enough that unless I surprise her she’ll be outside my range (except my scythe, though using that kinda defeats the point of getting those seals on her); instead, I reached out to the side, channeling my chakra through the wall until it was in front of her (pure chakra moves   _ fast _ ) in before ramping up the amount present to explosive levels.

  
  


A wall of force and shrapnel slammed into her hastily thrown up paper shield (formed from her wings). While none of the shrapnel actually touched her flesh, the shockwave still blew her away, slamming her back into the opposite wall.

  
  


I was on her before she could recover, driving my rebar pole through her guts and into the wall behind her. I cupped her face as I twisted the impromptu lance, drawing a grit-toothed scream from her. I shifted my grip to her throat as she tried to struggle, “Now now, none of that girl. See this pole here,” I twanged said piece of metal for emphasis. “is currently doing a Hell of a lot more than just hurting. See, I stabbed ya right through your guts, and _just_ _barely_ nicked an artery.” 

  
  
  


I released her throat, patting her check condescending as I stepping back, “Now, I'm sure you could easily pull yourself off that little wall;  _ but,  _ if you  _ do _ , you'll swiftly exsanguinate.” I shrugged, “That pole is currently the only thing keeping your blood mostly inside you, it comes out and so does your life blood.” 

  
  


I turned away, blatantly exposing my back to her. As I swaggered away I smirked at her over my shoulder, “I'm not gonna rape ya, I'll let  _ you  _ come to  _ me. _ I'm off to kill your boyfriend, so do me a favor; keep me in your thoughts.” I tapped the side of my head as my smirk grew to a full fledged grin.

  
  


The explosive shuriken she threw at me hit nothing but air as I vanished to higher places. While Zompeins harassed me at every turn, my swanky Sharingan managed to help me guess where Nagato's real body was based on where they defended the most. While extrapolating on there predictive ability felt somewhat strange, my delightful magic eyes showed they had many uses (no wonder Uchiha made such great policemen).

  
  


My smirk never left my face as I kicked down a wall, blowing chunks of concrete into Pein's already highly damaged “throne” room. Seeing the emaciated man inside made this whole thing feel somewhat pathetic; all this effort just to kill some cripple?

  
  


The feverish light in his powerful eyes dispelled any illusions of weakness… or sanity. Sane men don't ever hold expressions like that.

  
  


His raspy voice rang out over the howling wind rushing through the large cracks in the walls. “Konan is dead then?” Somehow, I was surprised that he spoke; though that may have been due to the fact the spikes sticking out of his back seem to have been driven through his chest. He was bleeding so heavily I was surprised he wasn't dead already.

  
  


I simply laughed, neither confirming nor denying his statement; let him wallow in his misery. 

  
  


Pein let out a strained, gurgling laughter, a smile way too large to be genuine spreading across his face. “I suppose your here for my eyes then.” 

  
  


It wasn't a question, but I answered anyways, “Ee-yup. Figured I'd complete mine. Hell, I might just start collecting them; go after some Hyuuga and whatnot.”

  
  


Nagato chuckled lowly, “Is that so?” Black receivers slid from his palms, “Well I don't think I'm gonna let you…” So saying, he drove the spikes into his eyes and out the back of his skull.

  
  


Or, at least he tried. Madara’s Sharingan is not to be underestimated, easily seeing his intent and providing me plenty of time to teleport forth. Had I come here before acquiring my fancy eyes or without activating them, I'm sure his suicidal act of spite would have succeeded. As is, my booted foot slammed down on both spikes, redirecting them into his throat instead.

  
  


I laughed at the stunned expression on his face, “What, did you think I was just going to sit back and let you do that? I can teleport, dumbass; nothing is outside my reach.”

  
  


I didn't bother waiting for him to finish dying before pulling out a spoon-like tool Rinri had provided for removing eyes (apparently he was professionally insulted by me using my fingers for Madara) and scooping out his magic orbs. Were his throat and lungs not choked with blood and metal, I'm sure his screams would have been magnificent.

  
  


A less informed man may have just left his body there for any serpents to lick up; I was not such a man. Blue flames consumed the room, devouring every ounce of blood and flesh that once made up a would-be legendary terrorist and half-blind visionary.

  
  


I watched the flames flicker, absorbed in my fascination with the beautiful destroyer for several minutes before Jashin reminded me I had places to be. I need to get these eyes popped in my skull and fused with my current pair (Jashin assured me that will be automatically done). I should also make sure Konan didn't actually bleed to death.

  
  


Teleporting away, I frowned at the scene that met my eyes upon finding where I left the Paper Angel. She was gone, leaving only a blood stained hole in the wall to mark where I'd left her. Even without my eyes spelling it out for me I could see what she'd done: she flew off, leaving the rebar in place to keep herself from bleeding out.

  
  


Well… that's fine, I guess. She'll come back; those seals will ensure it. I doubt she'll be able to keep me out of her head for long, and so long as she's thinking about me those seals will sway her opinion towards a more positive light.

  
  


I turned away, vanishing mid turn to reappear in Rinri's shop. My frown deepened into a dark, hateful scowl when I reappeared in the middle of a blazing bonfire. It didn't take long to see what had happened, someone had ransacked the town… no, based on the distant laughter, someone was in the process of ransacking  _ my fucking town! _

  
  


Whoever was rock fucking stupid enough to attack my home territory was going to fucking suffer for this. 


End file.
